Vengeance
by moogsthewriter
Summary: When Shawn was 19, he was part of a secret sting operation of a killer that nearly killed him. Now the murders have resumed. Will the others be able to protect Shawn when he won't tell them what happened? Note in my profile about updates.
1. The End of a Long Absence and the Beg

_A/N: Hello once again, my readers! Here is the next story for you. I will warn you - the updates are going to be closer to once a week instead of once a day, since this is still a work in progress._

_**Complete Summary: **_

Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process.

No one knew.

Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list.

With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?

Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?

Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules

_I have labled this story as an alternate universe, mainly because it does differ slightly from the series. The story contains my version of Shawn's past, which will therefore change some things. I will also probably write slightly different versions of others' past, including Vick's, Gus', and Henry's._

_For all of you Shules 'shippers out there, this story will contain Shules! It won't be a central focus, but it will become more prevalent as the story goes on._

_There is a strong possibility this story will become more graphic than some may prefer. To be safe, I have rated it on the higher end. If anyone thinks I should change the rating to "M", please let me know, and I will. (I tend to have a stronger stomach than most, so I don't always rate a story to what other people may think appropriate.) I will also try to add a note at the beginning of chapters I believe will be rather graphic. Read with your own discretion._

_This beginning is also rather vague. I don't want to give away too much before we get started (don't worry, everything will eventually become clear as we go along) but I will say that the large chunks of writing in italics are Shawn's thoughts. Hopefully that will clear some things up. But if you have any questions, please, don't be afraid to ask - I respond to my reviews eagerly, as many of you found out in my last story. _

_This disclaimer applies to the entire story, and will therefore be posted this once:_

**_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property myself. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._**

_Other than that, enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**The End of a Long Absence... and the Beginning of a Mystery**

1996

There it is. You're almost there. One foot in front of the other. That's it. You can do this!

"… and officials still have not publicly declared a probable explanation for the July 17 explosion that killed all 230 people on board. Families of the victims remain optimistic that answers will be found. Meanwhile, airport security is still heightened as the Olympic Games in Atlanta draw closer. Opening ceremonies begin…"

Henry Spencer sighed wearily as he turned his attention from the small TV screen and plodded into the kitchen. _Bad news and more bad news - that's all the media's ever really loved to report,_ he thought grimly, robotically pulling his marinating steak out of the fridge. He stepped outside and placed it on the already-fired-up grill. A pleasant smelling smoke wafted up in front of him as he shut the lid to the grill and stepped back into the kitchen. Yanking the fridge open and grabbing a beer from the top shelf, he moved so that he could lean against the doorway leading from the kitchen to the living room, the reporter's voice making its way to his ears.

_It's just one man - only one guy! And you survived that other dude, so this… this should be a lot easier. At least he cares about you, right? Sure, he doesn't know what you just went through, but still… he probably still cares about you. It's been awhile, but… just keep moving… that's it…_

"And in news slightly closer to home… in Los Angeles, the trial for James McKillian came to a close today in a rather startling development. McKillian agreed to plead guilty to ten counts of first-degree murder, thirteen counts of kidnapping and two counts of attempted murder, as well as other misdemeanors in exchange for life in prison," the reporter continued. Henry couldn't see the woman's face, but he could imagine the carefully plastered neutral expression on her features as she reported on the grisly crimes.

"McKillian was accused of brutally murdering ten teens in Arizona, Nevada, Idaho, and California, including three from the LA area, torturing them before their deaths and mutilating their bodies, leaving their faces practically untouched. Two victims managed to escape this horrible fate, both nineteen-year-old men who wish to remain anonymous for safety reasons. Police are still searching for eighteen-year-old Natalie Daly, another possible victim. While it's been confirmed McKillian abducted the teen girl, he has not revealed the location of her body."

Henry's mouth turned down in a slight frown as he took a swig of his beer and moved so he could see the screen. _Shawn's nineteen now,_ he thought vaguely, referring to the son he hadn't seen in almost a year and a half. _Not since two days after graduation,_ he thought with some chagrin. In fact, the last time he had seen son was from the opposite side of a set of jail bars.

Henry sighed. He could only begin to imagine what those kids' parents were going through at the moment. The SBPD hadn't gotten involved with the case at all, but they had been told to keep an eye out for the missing girl, as well as report any similar disappearances to the FBI prior to McKillian's arrest seven months ago. The atmosphere had been quite tense around the station. His new partner, a young newlywed named Karen Vick, was especially tense. Henry knew the rookie empathized with the families of the victims - perhaps a little too much, he reflected as he downed another mouthful of beer. Vick was young and eager, but she tended to let her emotions run her decisions - something Henry was trying to change.

His train of thought was derailed as the scene on the TV screen switched to outside the courthouse in Los Angeles. The camera zoomed in on a thin, wiry man with a bedraggled mop of dark hair on top of a rather sallow face with sunken cheekbones. When his piercing blue eyes turned to the camera, Henry was forced to suppress a shiver. In all his years in the police force, he had never seen anyone with such a horrifyingly evil stare.

"Mr. McKillian, what do you have to say for yourself?" one reporter called over the noise of the crowd.

McKillian kept his eyes trained on the camera even as he was forced away. "To those that got away… you'll return soon enough," he declared eerily.

Henry straightened slightly. He knew this man was going to a maximum-security prison to stay for the rest of his life… but that didn't make the threat any less terrifying. Or real.

_That's it… you're almost there. Smell that? Maybe he'll invite you to dinner… _

Henry turned back towards his deck to check on his steak. He took another swig of alcohol as he turned the meat with the long fork in his free hand. His hands tensed slightly when he heard a soft footstep behind him. In one swift movement, he slammed the grill lid down and whirled on one foot, holding the fork out in front of his body like a weapon.

_Just ring the doorbell… he'll be here… _

Henry sighed in relief when he spotted the neighbor's cat trying to sneak up on him. "Hoo no," he breathed, scooping up the cat before it could make a beeline. "You ain't getting my steak, furball," he added as he dumped the cat over the dividing fence. It hissed and darted away into the bushes.

_You're standing on the freakin' doorstep! What's he gonna do - run away? Like you did? _

"Hold on, hold on, I'm coming!" Burton Guster declared loudly, making his way to his apartment door even as the doorbell rang once more, wiping his hands on a towel._ Why do people always come over when I'm making dinner? I swear, if it's Mom again…_ he thought bitterly as the doorbell rang yet again.

"Just be patient, I told you I-" He suddenly froze as he wrenched the door open, revealing a rather thin and haggard individual shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other - an individual he hadn't seen for over fifteen months. Gus' eyes raked over the man's figure, taking in the too-short hair, the disheveled clothes, and the haunted look in the hazel eyes. "Sh-Shawn?"

Shawn Spencer licked his lips nervously and smiled weakly. "Hey, buddy," he whispered faintly. "Long time no see."

_A/N: There you have it! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading! See y'all later!_

_moogsthewriter_


	2. An Apple a Day Keeps the Bullets at Bay

_**Complete Summary: **_

Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process.

No one knew.

Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list.

With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?

Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?

Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules

_A/N: And we meet again! Just a few review replies first..._

_**Psychfan81692** - Glad to see you back and excited! Enjoy this chapter!_

_**HPSmallCharm29** - Thanks - glad you like it!_

_**pathera** - Thanks so much! I'm glad you noticed that part about thinking Shawn was at Henry's... that's the effect I was going for. Thanks so much for the awesome review!_

_And thanks to all of you who added alerts and such - I know there were quite a few! Your support is amazing! _

_**Warning**: This chapter has some gore in it - just a warning! _

_Standard disclaimer applies. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**An Apple a Day Keeps the Bullets at Bay**

_Smack._

"You know what I don't understand?" Shawn Spencer queried, tipping back in his office chair as an apple settled into his hand from its free-fall, the resounding smack echoing across the room.

"What?" Burton Guster asked as Shawn tossed the apple up into the air again.

_Smack._

"Why would Parsons steal money from his own store?" Shawn replied, sending the apple ceiling-wards once more. "I mean, he makes a killing from selling used cars, he's got two houses and a yacht - apparently he doesn't even need the money. So why take it?"

_Smack._

"Wait, what? I thought Richards was the guy!" Gus shot back, his eyes scanning the clear glass board.

"I _was_ thinking that at first, but I don't think so anymore," Shawn told him distractedly, his eyebrows knit in frustration as he stared at the board.

_Smack_.

"Why?"

"Because Larry Richards is the accountant, but Parsons is the chief salesman _and_ the owner. He knows every price and every sale that goes down at that store. So while it's true that Richards was writing down the wrong numbers into the dealer's account, it was because he was _given_ the wrong numbers," Shawn explained, taking a bite of the apple.

"How do you figure that?" Gus asked, puzzled.

"We already know that Vick Parsons initials each day's balance sheet, right? It's a way to verify all of the day's sales."

"Yeah, but Richards could've written down the wrong number before Parsons initialed it," Gus suggested.

Shawn shook his head, chewing noisily. "He could've, but 'e didn't," he replied through a mouthful of crushed apple. "C'm'ere," he called, waving his friend over with the apple as he spread a bunch of files out on his desk.

Gus weaved his way around his own desk to peer over the pseudo-psychic's shoulder. "Okay, so we know all eight of these days were off in the totals, right?" Shawn continued. When Gus nodded in agreement, he said, "What do you notice about each of them?"

Gus stared at them for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Shawn tapped his foot, working his hardest to keep from pointing out the obvious link. Suddenly Gus' eyes widened. "Parsons claimed the sale on over half of the vehicles sold each time!"

"Exactly! And do you remember what Richards told us?" Shawn exclaimed triumphantly.

"He said he never has to double-check Parsons' sales, since he's the one in charge!" Gus replied excitedly. "So Parsons must've written prices lower than they actually were and pocketed the profit for himself! He knew Richards wouldn't double check, so he could make a big haul that day, and he initialed the numbers as being correct!" He paused, staring down at each of the files again. "But what's his motive?"

"That's what I don't get!" Shawn replied with a sigh, taking another huge bite of apple. He paused mid-chew to stare at the half-eaten fruit. "Why m'I eatin' dis?" he asked through a full mouth. He shrugged, swallowed, and said, "We need to head back to that used car lot." He tossed the remains of the apple in the garbage and followed Gus out of the office door.

* * *

"What've we got, O'Hara?" Carlton Lassiter demanded as he passed under the yellow crime scene tape. He eyed the handkerchief the young blonde was holding over her mouth and nose. Her eyes were watering slightly. "Is it that bad?"

Juliet nodded wordlessly, swallowing a few times. "DB appears to be a young male, maybe late teens or early twenties. It appears like he was severely beaten before he died - all of his appendages have multiple fractures, and his neck looks like it may have been broken. His left tibia appears to be poking straight through the skin. Some of the marks look like whip marks. He's been shot multiple times, as well as stabbed and possibly burned, although I couldn't tell you if it was pre- or post-mortem," she declared finally, leading him around several large boxcar containers. Lassiter wrinkled his nose as the breeze brought in the salty smell of the sea, the coppery smell of blood, and the harsh scent of decay.

"Sweet justice," the hardened detective breathed when he caught sight of the body. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a few other officers quietly puking in a nearby garbage can. He didn't blame them; he had to swallow hard a few times himself.

The kid's body was completely mutilated. O'Hara's description was bad, but the actual thing was ten times worse. The skin was mottled and purple, and some of it was tinged with rot. Deep slashes crisscrossed over the body's torso, and the limbs were sprawled on the dock at half-hazard, grotesque angles. Black blood had oozed out of several bullet holes peppered over the body and around the white bone protruding from his lower left leg.

Lassiter took note with some surprise, however, that the vic's face was practically untouched. There was a bruise on his right cheekbone, and he appeared to have broken his nose recently. His eyes were mercifully closed, but the look on his face suggested he was in severe pain when he died.

"Alright, I want an ID on this kid, and I wanted it yesterday, got it? Who he is, where he's from, his last known whereabouts - the whole nine yards. Understood?" Lassiter barked at a group of officers who had chosen to hang back from the gruesome sight. They all nodded and scurried away, relieved to get away from the sight and smell of the body.

The Head Detective turned his attention back to the body. Next to him, Juliet was silently watching the coroners conferring with a few members from the forensics team. "The Chief's on her way down. She should be here soon," she murmured finally. When Lassiter raised an eyebrow, she explained, "Apparently she heard how gruesome it was and wanted to see it first hand. I don't know why."

The pair turned as McNabb came up. "I think he's ready now, ma'am," he told O'Hara.

"Thanks, Buzz," Juliet replied with a smile. The tall officer nodded and turned to head back the way he had come.

Lassiter and O'Hara followed. "A dockworker found the body. He managed to keep control of himself until officers arrived, but…" Juliet trailed off as Lassiter nodded once. He had already spotted a stout man with short dark hair leaning weakly against a railing.

"Mister Redburn? This is my partner, Carlton Lassiter. He's the Head Detective at SBPD," Juliet called.

Redburn nodded in Lassiter's direction. His dark eyes looked a little glazed. "I've seen ya on the news a few times. Ya do good work," he said, a slight Southern drawl to his voice.

Lassiter blinked. "Thank you," he said, slightly surprised. He pulled out a small notebook and pen. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Redburn took a deep breath. "I was just doin' my normal preparations t' set out for a day of fishin' - it's actually my day off, and I like t' fish. Anyways, I caught a whiff of somethin' rotten. We smell it all th' time, what with all th' fish guts people like t' leave behind. At firs' I thought it was another fish, but it didn' smell quite right, so I went to go check it out, and - and-" His ruddy face turned very pale again, and he swallowed hard.

"You found the body," Lassiter finished. Redburn nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "Do you recognize the victim?"

Redburn shook his head. "No, I ain't never seen him 'round here before."

"Have you noticed anyone strange hanging around here? Anyone who's not supposed to be here?" O'Hara asked.

"Not really. 'Course, I don't see everybody tha' comes here, so tha' doesn' mean there wasn' any. But I can tell ya one thing - that body wasn' here las' night. No way, no how. I didn' leave here 'til 'bout ten or so, and there weren't no body."

"Thanks. That's good to know," Lassiter replied, jotting something down in his notebook. "If you think of anything else, let us know immediately, okay?"

"Sure thing," Redburn replied. "Jus' find the guy that did this, a'ight?"

"We'll do our best, sir," Juliet declared firmly. Redburn nodded and shakily turned away.

"Well, that gives us a starting point," Lassiter said as he and O'Hara headed back towards the body. The coroner was wheeling the now-covered body away. "It's pretty obvious this kid's been dead for a least a little bit, and that he wasn't killed around here. The body must've been dumped here last night."

"I'll go check and see if there's security cameras in the parking lot or along the docks. There can't have been too many cars coming in and out of here that late at night," Juliet volunteered immediately.

"Good, good. I'll head down to the morgue, see if we can't figure out what exactly this poor kid died from," Lassiter replied. He paused and glanced around. "I'm faintly surprised Spencer isn't here yet - normally he jumps all over cases like this."

"There's the chief," O'Hara cut in, pointing. Karen Vick was striding towards them rather forcefully. "And Gus told me yesterday they were working a private case - embezzlement, I think. At a used car lot or something."

Her partner nodded distractedly as Vick joined them. "They already carted the body out," Lassiter said to the Chief.

"How did he die?" Vick asked tersely.

Both Juliet and Lassiter blinked in surprise at both the suddenness of the question and the tone of her voice. "We're not entirely sure. He had several gunshot wounds, but it looked like his neck was broken, too. He was also severely beaten, although his face was relatively unmarked," O'Hara answered. Noting the tense look on the older woman's face, she asked, "Chief, what's wrong?"

"This is sounding like a copycat of a serial killer - James McKillian," Vick replied after a moment. "I was a rookie when he was arrested. He killed ten kids, kidnapped a total of thirteen - one body was never found. This MO is very similar to his."

"So someone's trying copy McKillian? Or is McKillian out?" Lassiter asked.

"No, McKillian is still locked up, as far as I know. He got life in prison for what he did," Vick said. "There's no way they would have let him out."

Suddenly Vick's phone rang. "Hello?" There was a long pause. Vick's brows narrowed in confusion. "Whoa, whoa, slow down, Mr. Guster. Start over." O'Hara and Lassiter glanced at each other as there was another pause. Vick's eyes went wide. "He's WHAT?"

* * *

"He's shooting at us!" Gus replied, ducking down as another bullet _twanged_ off the already dented door of an old red truck. "Shawn had a vision, and we figured out Parsons was embezzling from his own funds, but we didn't know why," he explained.

"Mr. Guster, what are you talking about?"

Gus stuck a finger over his free ear so he could hear the Chief's voice better. "The embezzlement case Shawn and I are on - Juliet knows about it. We're down at Vick Parson's car lot."

"Are you injured?" Karen asked.

"I'm fine, but I don't know where - Shawn!" Gus suddenly exclaimed as the psychic seemed to materialize out of thin air next to him.

"Who're you talking to? Vick? Here, let me," Shawn panted, snatching the phone from Gus' grasp before he could reply. "Chief?"

"Mr. Spencer, what on earth are you doing?" Vick demanded.

Shawn could hear the sound of doors slamming in the background, and he grinned. "Good, you're coming! Well, I was solving an embezzlement case, although I think it may have just become a murder case," he replied.

"WHAT?" both Gus and Karen exclaimed at the same time.

"I had a vision of Larry Richards lying in a growing pool of blood. I think he reached the same conclusion about his boss that we did, and he tried to confront him about it," Shawn continued, cautiously lifting his head over the bed of the pickup. He dropped down immediately as another hunk of lead zinged over his head, burying itself in a nearby car door. "That, combined with the fact Parsons has us pinned down, makes for a most interesting situation," he gasped.

"Alright, Mr. Spencer, just sit tight, we're on our way, and there's two more units en-route," Vick told him tersely.

"Aye-aye, Chief," the psychic replied, snapping Gus' phone shut and handing it back to his friend.

Gus took it, wide-eyed. "Richards is dead?"

"Or he will be soon," Shawn affirmed grimly. "I managed to catch a glimpse of Parsons with a mirror. Richards was lying on the ground behind him, and I spotted a couple of clips of ammunition on a nearby chair, so I don't know how many shots he has left."

"Well, this is just great," Gus huffed, slumping back against the tire of the truck.

"I know you and your buddy are out there, psychic!" Parsons suddenly yelled. "Why don't you show your face?"

"What, so you can blast it off? Don't think so!" Shawn shouted back, rolling his eyes. "What's the big deal, anyway? Why'd you shoot Richards?"

"He shoulda kept his nose in his own damn business!" Parsons replied loudly. "Just like you two! I told him we shouldn't hire you, but he insisted on it! Look where it got him! Look where it got you!"

"This guy's nuts, Shawn!" Gus hissed

"You think I don't know that?" Shawn shot back under his breath. "Why'd you embezzle money out of your own store?" he called to the salesman.

"You're the psychic, why don't you tell me?"

Shawn's eyes widened. Parsons voice was coming from a slightly different direction. "He's moving!" he whispered fiercely. "He's trying to get a clear shot!"

Gus's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Then we need to move, too!"

Shawn nodded. He pointed frantically at the underside of another car while yelling, "I know you were having problems with some rather shady characters. Drug dealers aren't the best people to hang out with, right?"

Gus stared at him in shock, but moved forward wordlessly under the car. Shawn dove behind him.

"I'm impressed, Spencer! I didn't think you were for real!" Parsons called. His voice sounded from behind them and to the left. Shawn crab-walked behind the row of cars, Gus hot on his heels.

"You owed someone a lot of money!" Shawn continued as he forced Gus under another car. "And you didn't want to sell any of your property because you needed to save face. No one wants to by cars from a druggie - or anything else, for that matter. 'Cept maybe drugs."

"And I was in the clear - one more big day of sales, and I would've been debt free!" Parsons exclaimed angrily.

Shawn and Gus paused, leaning against the side of a compact car, gasping for breath. "You would've been debt-free until your next fix, anyway," the psychic continued loudly. He popped up briefly and caught a glimpse of the overweight car salesman marching down a row of cars carefully, his Glock poised. He ducked back down as Gus yanked on the hem of his shirt.

"Are you insane?" Gus whispered fiercely. "Did he see you?"

"No, he was facing the wrong direction," Shawn replied with a firm shake of his head. He paused, cocking his head to the side, before he grinned. "Cavalry's coming."

Gus raised an eyebrow, but then he heard it - sirens in the distance. He couldn't hold back a smile.

"What do you know? I could've quit if I wanted to - I would've after I paid off what I owed. But then Richards figured out something was off when he did that damn audit and insisted on hiring you when I wouldn't go to the police, the moron," Parsons sneered.

Shawn gave Gus a gentle shove forward, and together they scrambled forward, passing though a gap between two cars as Parsons continued ranting. "But now he's dead, and once I finished you two, I'll be able to get past this nightmare."

"Too late for that, dude," Shawn replied. "You hear what I hear?" A moment later, he heard Parsons curse fiercely as he registered the sirens. "Did Larry forget to mention that I'm a consultant for the SBPD?"

"I'm gonna kill you!" Parsons screamed. Gus and Shawn ducked instinctively as the gun went off again. There was a distinct _thud_ of the bullet landing into the opposite door of the vehicle they were currently cowering behind. They stared at each other wide-eyed.

Then they heard squealing tires and slamming doors. "SBPD! Drop your weapon and get your hands in the air!"

"Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed, but the second syllable of his exclamation was drowned out by three rapid-fire gunshots. Bullets _twanged_ around them, causing them to cringe.

The shots stopped, and a clicking sound could be heard. "He's out of ammo! Now's our chance!" Shawn hissed, grabbing Gus by the elbow.

"You don't have to tell me twice!" Gus replied as they ran forward together.

"Gotcha!" Parsons suddenly exclaimed triumphantly. The duo immediately whirled in time to see the car salesman smirking, his Glock leveled at them. Shawn automatically moved in front of Gus to act as a shield as a thunderous _bang_ echoed around them.

Shawn blinked. Instead of searing pain in his chest, he saw the gun drop as blood started gushing from the back of Parsons' hand. He scrambled forward and picked up the fallen weapon, getting to his feet and training the gun on the killer as footsteps ran up behind him.

"You guys okay?" Juliet asked as Lassiter moved to handcuff Parsons.

"Yeah," Gus replied breathlessly as Shawn slowly lowered his trembling arms, thumbing on the safety. "Who shot him? Lassiter?"

"Wasn't me," the Head Detective replied tersely as another pair of officers escorted a whimpering and moaning Parsons to their squad car.

Shawn's eyebrows arched. "Then who-"

"All these years, and I _still_ have to cover your six, Spencer? Pathetic," a gruff voice suddenly called.

Lassiter immediately whirled towards the voice, raising his gun. The others turned in confusion to see a tall, lithe man with slightly graying brown hair marching towards them as he holstered his weapon. His green eyes were creased into a smirk as he stared at Shawn.

The hollow sound of a gun hitting the blacktop echoed around them, and the others turned to see Shawn's eyes wide open and his jaw dropped in astonishment.

_"Charlie_?"

* * *

_A/N: Thanks again for reading. If you have any questions, please ask... although I can't guarantee I'll answer all of them because you are supposed to have some questions... see you later!_

_moogsthewriter_


	3. Questions, Questions Everywhere  With N

**_Complete Summary: _**

**_Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process._**

**_No one knew._**

**_Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list._**

**_With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?_**

**_Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?_**

**_Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules._**

_A/N: I'm baa-acck!! With more story... and review replies!_

_**aintsosweet** - Thanks! Glad you like it! _

_**HPSmallCharm29** - Yep. Cliffhanger! They're my best friend as a writer! So be prepared..._

_**Saucy-Duck** - Aw, thanks! I'm glad to hear you like my work that much - it's very, very encouraging to me!_

_**PsychFan81962** -Charlie is... a guy... that Shawn knows... _;)_ Don't worry, all will be revealed... eventually!_

_**FeistyFeist** - Thanks very much! I'm glad you're enjoying it... dun dun dunnn indeed! _XD

_And thanks to all of those who added alerts and/or read the last chapter - love you all!_

_Notes... umm... oh. Bozeman, Montana is a real place. I would know - trust me. Also, if you hadn't guessed already, this probably won't fall exactly in line with the show, but I'm doing my best to make things fit. This may be a little difficult since I've seen a grand total of about 2 and a half episodes of Season 2... heheh. Darn Friday night work shifts... Anyway, this chapter will start hinting at things that have happened, but it's still gonna be kinda foggy for awhile. But if you ever have a pressing question, go ahead and ask - I can't guarantee I'll give the answer, since it might be something that's going to be revealed later, but I will tell you if you're supposed to know already or will find out eventually. Okie dokie? Sweet. Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

**Questions, Questions Everywhere - With No End in Sight**

"Glad to see you remember me, Spence. It's been awhile," the man called Charlie replied with a grin.

"You know this man, Mr. Spencer?" Vick asked, looking at Shawn's surprised face. Shawn nodded wordlessly, still staring open-mouthed at the man.

"Captain Charles Hixson, LAPD," Charlie clarified, flashing a badge. Lassiter finally lowered his gun, still regarding the man suspiciously. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Vick's eyes widen, then narrow.

"What's the LAPD doing out here?" O'Hara demanded.

"I thought you transferred out East," Shawn cut in, finally closing his mouth.

"I did. Came back a few years later, though - Jersey just wasn't in my blood, I guess," Hixson replied with a shrug.

"Okay, wait, time out - what's going on here?" Lassiter interjected, his eyebrow raised as he glared at Shawn. "Spencer? How do you know this guy?"

"I met Spence back when I was a rookie," Hixson supplied, his gaze shifting to Lassiter. "He helped me out on a case once."

They all looked at Shawn in surprise. "Is this true, Mr. Spencer?" Karen asked.

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah, I helped out a little, I guess. That's when I first figured out how I could use my psychic gifts," he said.

Gus didn't miss the pointed look his friend shot the newcomer, or the faint look of surprise that flashed in Hixson's eyes. He frowned. "How come I didn't ever hear about this?" he demanded.

Shawn suddenly became quite interested in the nails of his right hand. O'Hara, Vick, and even Lassiter looked at the pseudo-psychic in shock as Gus' eyes widened in recognition. "Was this when you left after graduation?"

"Yeah," Shawn replied, his eyes flicking up towards Gus before flicking away again. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable, and Gus didn't blame him. That year and a half was something both he and Shawn wanted to forget… although Gus wasn't exactly sure _why_ Shawn wanted to forget it…

He was jerked out of his musings by Hixson's gruff voice. "While it's nice to catch up with old… friends… that's not why I'm here." He locked his green eyes with Lassiter's piercing blue ones. "I understand you just came from a rather gruesome crime scene, correct?"

"So what if we did? That's not in your jurisdiction," Lassiter snapped back immediately.

"I believe I have some information pertinent to the case," Hixson replied coolly. His glanced flicked to Shawn for a brief moment before moving to the Chief. "Something we need to discuss in private," he added pointedly.

"What? What crime scene is he talking about, Jules?" Shawn demanded, looking to the Junior Detective.

Juliet opened her mouth to reply when Hixson cut in. "I need to talk with Spence a sec. Excuse us," he said smoothly, wrapping a beefy hand around Shawn's elbow. Gus saw a flicker of pain and something else flash across Shawn's face before he was led out of earshot. His eyebrows furrowed in thought as he pondered what he had seen in his friend's eyes.

There was silence for a beat. "Okay - what just happened?" Juliet asked finally, looking pointedly at Gus.

Gus shrugged as he watched the pair move to stand behind a large truck, obscuring his view. "Shawn left right after high school. He had a run-in with his dad and… well, it just wasn't good. He sent me a letter once a month for the first three months he was gone - very vague letters. There were never any return addresses, and they were always postmarked from different places. Then he dropped off the grid for a year. No one heard from him - not me, not his dad, not anybody," he said quietly. "Then he showed up on my doorstep one day out of the blue. Hung around a couple months before he took off again, although he never went longer than two weeks without at least dropping me a postcard after that."

There was another beat of silence as the officers digested this startling information. "Did you recognize this guy, Chief?" Lassiter asked finally as the sound of muffled voices drifted their way.

"He's the guy who arrested McKillian," Vick replied quietly.

"Are you sure?" O'Hara gasped.

Vick nodded. "Cracking the McKillian case gave a huge jumpstart to Hixson's career. We should hear what he's got to say - it's not a coincidence that he happened to show up at the same time as this murder, that's for sure. O'Hara, I need you to finish up here. It shouldn't take too long," the older woman continued over Juliet's spluttered protests.

She pointed behind them, and they turned to see two medics wheeling a body bag away. "Unfortunately, this did turn into a murder scene. I need you to get statements from Mr. Spencer, Mr. Guster, and the salesman. Once you're done with that, you'll be updated immediately on this case, okay?"

Juliet sighed. "Yes, Chief."

"Carlton, you and I are going to hear what Captain Hixson has to say. And then we're going to ask both him and Mr. Spencer the details of this case they worked on together," Vick finished, turning back to look where her psychic and the LA cop had disappeared.

* * *

"Alright, Charlie, what the hell's going on around here?" Shawn demanded as soon as they were out of earshot, wrenching his arm from the painful grip. He clenched his left hand into a fist in order to avoid grabbing at his throbbing elbow. "I haven't seen you or heard from you in over a decade, and then you just randomly show up to save my tail? Why are you here? What's going on?" 

"All these years and I don't even get a 'Hey, Charlie, thanks for saving my life, how's it going?'" Hixson replied with a snort. "You always did like to jump straight into things, didn't you, Spence?"

"Cut the crap, Charlie. Why are you here?"

Hixson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Two days ago I got a note in my mailbox. Typewritten, no return address - only a spades symbol in the upper corner. I know what you're gonna ask," he hurriedly added as Shawn's face went completely white, "but I already checked. It can't be McKillian - he's still locked up. And the note wasn't claiming to be McKillian. It said, and I quote, 'Your days as a hero are numbered. The killings will resume, and revenge will be exacted.'"

Shawn's eyes widened as he searched the older man's face. "The accomplice?"

"The unconfirmed accomplice, you mean," Hixson replied grimly. "That's the only person I think it would be."

Shawn chewed his lip. "How'd you hear about Lassie and Jules' case?" he asked after a moment.

"I've got an old friend on the forensics team here," Hixson answered quickly. "The point is, it's McKillian all over again. Only this time, I'm pretty sure we know two eventual targets."

"Me and Logan," Shawn muttered. His eyes flashed with determination. "I want in on this."

"No," Hixson said immediately.

"What?"

"Shawn, you're too emotionally involved in this. It's pretty obvious you haven't told anyone about what happened to you-"

"Because they never needed to know! We went over this back in '96!" Shawn shot back.

"Why didn't you ever tell them? Your father's a cop-"

"_Was_ a cop. He's retired now."

"Was a cop," Hixson conceded, "so he had to have known about it. Every police station on the West Coast was told to keep on the lookout for Nat."

"I know, I know. I just - I wanted to put it behind me at the time, okay? And I never felt the need to share it with anyone after awhile - it didn't seem relevant. But I don't see why I can't be in on this-"

"You said it yourself. You want to put this behind you. Face it, Spence, if you try to help out, you're gonna be airing a lotta dirty laundry. Is that what you really want?" Hixson asked.

Shawn sighed. "No, not really, but if it means finally figuring out what happened to Nat…"

There was a faint pause. "Look, I'll think about it. For now, stay away from it," Charlie finally said.

"I'm not going to be able to stay away for long - Vick's gonna wanna put me on this case," Shawn replied.

"Why?"

"Well… I'm sorta the Psychic Consultant for the SBPD," Shawn admitted sheepishly.

"Is _that_ what you meant by 'psychic powers,' or whatever?" Hixson asked.

Shawn nodded. "It's a really long story, but basically, everyone except Gus and my Dad think I'm psychic. Well, actually, I'm not sure if Lassie and Vick are completely convinced, but they roll with it. Anyway, Gus and I have a pretty good track record, so chances are the Chief - that's Karen Vick, the older blonde back there - is gonna wanna bring me in on this."

Hixson frowned. "I hate to say it, but I think you're gonna have to tell them what happened. Or I will. They're gonna want to know more about how we know each other."

"So tell them the basics. I helped you figure out McKillian's location. It's the truth, and it spares them the bloody details," Shawn answered tersely.

The older man looked doubtful. "It's only partly the truth, but fair enough. I won't push you. I'll talk with you later - you still work out?"

"Every once in awhile," Shawn muttered self-consciously.

Charlie nodded once. "Alright. Two hours from now - you and me at wherever the officers train. I wanna see how much you've still got. I have a feeling we may end up needing your sharp-shooting skills again." He paused thoughtfully, noting the way Shawn shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. "You mean they don't even know you can _shoot_? Jeez, Spence, have you told them _anything_ from your time in the Academy?"

Shawn shook his head once. "No - and if I have my way, it'll stay like that. Got it?"

"Suit yourself. I still think you would've made a damn good cop, kid," Hixson replied resignedly.

"I wouldn't even have signed up if you hadn't used rather… _forceful…_ methods of persuasion, Chuck," Shawn told him.

Hixson chuckled, clapping a hand on the pseudo-psychic's shoulder. "We'll get through this, Spence," he murmured.

"Have you told Logan yet?"

"He's flying in from Bozeman tonight," Hixson affirmed.

"He's still out in Montana?" Shawn asked with some surprise. "I would've thought… what with all that happened between him and Nat…"

"You'll have to question his motivations when he gets here," Charlie replied, leading Shawn back around the truck to the others.

"Is everything alright?" Juliet called as they approached.

"Everything's just fine," Shawn and Hixson replied together. "Now, about that case…" Hixson continued.

"Why don't we head back to the office, Captain Hixson? We can discuss this in my office," Vick offered.

"Call me Charlie. 'Captain' sounds a little too informal," Hixson replied with a grin.

"All right, then, Charlie. Mr. Spencer, you and Mr. Guster need to give your statements to Detective O'Hara, okay? I don't want to see your face around my office until I call you, understand?"

"Got it, Chief!" Shawn replied with a grin, raising two fingers in acknowledgement. Vick nodded and turned to head back to her car, Hixson on her heels. Lassiter cast one last suspicious glance at Shawn before heading after his boss. The grin fell from Shawn's face as soon as the trio was out of sight.

"Shawn, what's going on? Are you sure you're okay?" Gus asked, seeing the faraway look in Shawn's eyes.

The subtlest of tremors ran through Shawn's body as he was jerked from his reverie. Gus saw the strange emotion flare in his friend's eyes before Shawn grinned and replied, "I'm fine, Gus! Nothing to worry about! So, about that statement, Jules… I was thinking maybe we could do it over lunch? I know this awesome little deli down the street. I don't know about you, but I'm starved!"

Juliet chuckled and shook her head, following Shawn as he eagerly walked towards where Gus had parked. Gus, on the other hand, wasn't fooled by Shawn's act. He frowned in thought as he followed the pair. He had finally registered what that strange, foreign emotion on Shawn's face was.

Terror. Pure, unadulterated terror.

Shawn Spencer never showed fear. _Ever_. At least, not in front of anyone. Panic? Yes. A little fear? Sometimes. But never terror. And that, more than anything, made Gus a little afraid himself.

What on earth could've happened?

_A/N: Thanks again for reading! As always, I love hearing from you all! See you later!_

_moogsthewriter_


	4. Nutshelling a Horror Story

**_Complete Summary: _**

**_Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process._**

**_No one knew._**

**_Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list._**

**_With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?_**

**_Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?_**

**_Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules._**

_A/N: Hey, guys! Sorry I'm so late with this - life kinda exploded on me. Actually, it is. But I figure in celebration of the latest episode, I'd update. And since I didn't get to see the episode (weeps bitterly), I dedicate this to those of you out there who are suffering just as much as me. But don't worry - it'll be up online at USA Network's official site on Monday! Just a few quick review replies a sec..._

_**Bunny** - Thanks so much! I really appreciate the kind review._

_**HPSmallCharm29** - I totally know what you mean - they are totally killer, but totally hooking. And they're really fun to write!_

_**aintsosweet** - Thanks so much! Don't worry - you'll find out about Nat in time. _

_**winged-monkey** - Thanks so much, IC! I'm glad you like it. And yes, I have discovered the USA site... most awesome. And I also have the entire first season on DVD, so that one I'm not worried about. Enjoy!_

**P** _- I'm glad you like it. I hope you can remember how to get on - that's always annoying when you can't remember (at least, it is for me). I hope you're still interested! I know it's been awhile..._

_**altair** - Thanks so much! I'm glad I've got you hooked. Enjoy this next chapter!_

_**PsychFan81692** - lol Yeah, you probably should. And thanks for being patient - trust me, there'll be plenty of action coming up._

_This chapter will begin to explain what happened all those years ago, but there are still a lot of things that are supposed to remain vague. But if you do have any questions, don't be afraid to ask! Enjoy!_

**Nutshelling a Horror Story**

"Please, Charlie, take a seat," Vick offered, waving a hand towards the small couch in her office as she sat in her chair. Lassiter silently leaned against the wall by the door as the police captain flopped down on the couch. "Now, what is this information that you have for us?"

"Have you heard of the James McKillian case?" Charlie asked.

"I was a rookie when you arrested him," Vick affirmed as Lassiter replied, "No."

Hixson glanced over at the Head Detective. "Maybe you should take a seat, too, Detective - this is gonna be a long story," he suggested.

"I'm just fine, thanks," Lassiter replied coolly.

Hixson shrugged. "Suit yourself." He sighed, and there was a long pause. Finally Hixson shifted so his elbows were on his knees. His face looked tired and drawn. "Thirteen years ago, I had just graduated from the L.A. police academy. I got a job right away with the L.A.P.D. Two months in, we got a call. Body found down by a warehouse." He paused again, pursing his lips. "Aaron Hurley. Seventeen. Junior in high school. Wanted to be a cop, just like his dad," he said softly.

"McKillian's first victim," Lassiter filled in.

Hixson nodded. "When I got there, it - it was - it was just horrible. My first real DB, and it had to be one of McKillian's vics." He fell silent for a moment, his eyes unfocused as he remembered. "I still dream about it, sometimes. On the bad days."

He shook himself slightly and looked over at Lassiter. "The thing with McKillian was he liked to torture his vics, but he left their faces pretty much untouched. Some of the stuff he did… was almost unmentionable.

"We tracked down clues for weeks. There was only one major one, though. The day before Hurley's body was found, his parents received a playing card in their mailbox. It was the ace of spades - McKillian's calling card."

"Did they ever report him missing before his body was found?" Vick asked.

"It was a weekend - he was supposed to spend the night at a friend's house. They had no clue what was going on until their son's body was found."

"Wait, I thought the victims were generally missing for a week and a half before the body was found," Vick replied, her brows knit with confusion.

Hixson shook his head. "Towards the end, that was the average, but early on, they were only missing a day or two. The longest anyone was missing was two and a half weeks."

"What does Spencer have to do with this?" Lassiter cut in.

There was silence for a beat. "Did I ever say he did?" Hixson asked finally.

"Indirectly. You said you met him when you were a rookie. This case was when you were a rookie. And with a case like this, it's not likely that you were working many other cases," Lassiter deadpanned.

Hixson leaned back in his chair, chewing his lip nervously. Vick raised an eyebrow in expectation. "Okay, okay. He _was _involved, but I'll explain it more when I get to that point, okay?"

Lassiter scowled slightly, but nodded his agreement. Hixson continued, "Anyway, about three and a half weeks after Hurley was killed another body showed up. Madeline Masters. Eighteen. Originally from Boise, Idaho. Her death didn't come to our attention, however, until the third victim, a month later. Samuel Gates. Nineteen, from Las Vegas."

"How did the connection get made?" Vick inquired.

"By mere happenstance. The FBI was involved with all three cases. A few of the field agents from each case happened to get together one night for some beers and started talking about their respective cases. It wasn't long before they made the connection. By then, the fourth body was found in Phoenix. Levi Torres. Seventeen. The FBI was alerted to the murder, and they immediately made the connection." Hixson sighed. "By the time they had made the connection, however, there had been four murders in five months."

"Why those places?" Lassiter asked, moving to sit on the edge of Vick's desk.

Hixson shrugged. "That was never fully discovered. But other patterns emerged. You have to understand - what I'm about to tell you has never, ever been released to the public, okay?"

When the pair agreed, Hixson continued, "The day before a body would appear, the family would receive the ace of spades in their mailbox. None of them ever knew what it meant because that information was never released, but it was a consistent detail. Each victim was also an only child, and each one had a police officer for a father."

"Why?" Vick asked, leaning back in her chair, her eyes narrowed at the thought of such a personal attack.

"No one really knows. As far as I know, McKillian has never spoken more than four words at a time since his arrest. Even when I read him his rights and questioned him later, he merely nodded or shook his head," Hixson replied.

"What about the other victims?" Lassiter queried, a frown pulling at his mouth.

"After Torres, the cycle started working backwards. Two weeks after he was killed, Amanda Gonzales was found in an alley behind the Phoenix Police Academy. She had just started training to become an officer, like her father. She was eighteen."

"Did all the victims want to become officers?" Vick asked softly.

Hixson shook his head. "No. But they did all want to somehow become involved with law enforcement. Hurley, Torres, and Gonzales wanted to be officers. Masters wanted to become a lawyer, and Gates was in college to go into forensics."

"That's more than a coincidence," Lassiter muttered.

"We felt the same way, but at the time, we had no clue who the killer was. McKillian was spotless - he left no trace on any of the bodies, and he must have worn gloves whenever he worked with the playing cards. He began to slow down slightly, but there were still a lot of victims showing up. There were five killings in '95. Gonzales was first. Then Peter Hills. Nineteen, from Reno, Nevada. Wanted to be a lawyer. Johanna Preston, from Twin Falls, Idaho. Just graduated from high school, hoping to become a coroner. Then McKillian brought it back home again when he killed Jenny Johnson. She was seventeen, from LA, and she wanted to be a D.A."

"Did you see every body?" Vick asked, her jaw tense.

Hixson swallowed and looked at the floor. "Yes, at least through photos," he murmured. "It was… difficult, to say the least. The Ace Case - that's what we called each one, because of the calling card."

He sighed. "Eight murders and a year and a half later, and we weren't getting any closer to finding the killer. Two more bodies showed up that fit the pattern. William Vales - eighteen, from L.A., wanted to be a cop. And Marcus Ross. Nineteen, from Boise, studying to be a lawyer."

"I take it something changed at that point?" Lassiter supplied after a moment of silence.

Hixson nodded. "I had personally kept after the case the entire time, even if it meant working on it on my off-hours. McKillian must've known this, because he sent me the next card, and a name. It was…" He stumbled a bit, as if searching for something to say, before continuing, "He was an eighteen-year-old from southern California, with a police officer father that… wasn't part of his life at the moment."

"McKillian broke his own trend?" Vick asked incredulously.

"In several ways. That entire night, I expected to be getting a call saying another body had shown up, but it never did. Instead, I got wind of another disappearance. Another eighteen-year-old, this time from Boise. His parents had contacted the police when he didn't come home for the weekend. They mentioned receiving the ace in the mailbox, and the cops immediately reported it to the FBI, who shared that information with me."

"They were the two who survived?" the Chief guessed, her voice soft.

Hixson nodded. "The first kid was the one who was gone the longest - over two weeks in McKillian's clutches."

"He must've been really messed up when you guys found him," Lassiter remarked grimly.

An odd look crossed Hixson's face. "Yeah, he was," he whispered. He shook himself slightly, then continued slowly, "The day the last victim, a girl from LA, disappeared, I got a call from Shawn. I had met him before, so I knew him a little. He claimed he knew where the missing kids were."

"He never made any mention of this to us," Lassiter replied, his jaw tensing.

"I could see why," Hixson told him, the odd look on his face again. When Lassiter and Vick looked at him, puzzled, he clarified, "He was only partly right. We managed to find the two boys, but the girl, Natalie Daly, was never found. She was presumed dead - the last of McKillian's victims."

Silence fell over them for a moment. "That must've been hard on Spencer," Lassiter finally said softly.

"Harder than you'll know," Hixson muttered under his breath. Vick missed it, but Lassiter cocked his head in confusion and was about to say something when Vick cut him off.

"So what alerted you to this case?"

"I received a note two days ago in my mailbox. There was a spades symbol where the return address is typically written. Inside was a typewritten note that said 'Your days as a hero are numbered. The killings will resume, and vengeance will be mine.'"

"McKillian?" Lassiter asked.

"No. I checked - he's still locked up. But I've always had a suspicion that there was an accomplice. The two kids that lived said they only saw McKillian, but one was pretty sure he heard someone else talking with McKillian once. The fact that Nat Daly's body was never found compounds that fact. But the killings ended with McKillian's arrest, so I was forced to move on after awhile."

"So you think this accomplice is back?" Vick said.

Hixson nodded. "I'll need to see the body, but I have a gut feeling that the accomplice means what he… or she… said."

"Have you alerted the two that survived?" Lassiter inquired.

"Yes. They are quite aware of the danger, but they are quite capable of taking care of themselves now. I'm more concerned about those targets we aren't aware about," Hixson replied. His face was deadly serious. "Basically, we are starting all over again with this case. Last time it took eleven kids dying and two more being tortured before we caught the guy responsible."

"That's not promising," Vick muttered.

"No, it isn't," Hixson agreed. "And that's why I want to work with you on this. I want to end this before it gets out of hand. I have to. I failed all of those kids last time. I won't let that happen again."

"And we won't, either," Vick affirmed as Lassiter nodded in agreement. Hixson smiled as Vick got to her feet. "So, where do we begin?"

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading, and I promise, the next update will be faster. As always, reviews are greatly encouraged and appreciated. Until we meet again!_

_moogsthewriter_


	5. The Fast and the Psychic: Santa Barbara

**_Complete Summary: _**

**_Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process._**

**_No one knew._**

**_Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list._**

**_With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?_**

**_Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?_**

**_Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules._**

_A/N: Alrighty! I saw the Christmas episode earlier this week, and I was super excited! So... here's the next chapter! It's out much faster this time, no? First, though, a few review replies:_

_**winged-monkey** - Yes! I win! That's another convert down on my list! Heehee! Glad you enjoyed it! Merry Christmas to you, too! (I'm so excited for Christmas!!!)_

_**Psychfan81692** - Hey, better late than never, I always say. Besides, I was late with the update, so I'm fine with it. And trust me, I know exactly how it feels to be super busy. Glad you enjoyed it! You'll get to see a little gun-firing action in this chappie! Enjoy!_

_**Kippling Croft** - Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying it._

_**Saucy-Duck** - And I am glad you are re-reading and re-reviewing - I really appreciate it. A lot. I just finished finals yesterday, and they went pretty well, although I didn't have a whole ton of them - thanks for asking! Heehee, at least you do well where it counts, right? _;o)

_**HPSmallCharm29** - I'm glad you liked it. No, Lassie, Vick, and Jules probably won't find out about Shawn for a little while, but they will start getting more clues. But don't worry, they'll find out eventually!_

_**criminally charmed** - Yes he was - about 18-19ish. And don't worry - everyone will find out... eventually! I gotta keep y'all hooked somehow, right? _;o)

_Once again, I sadly do not own Psych. And the title was inspired by a movie of a similar name... I'm sure you'll all recognize it. Enjoy!_

**The Fast and the Psychic: Santa Barbara Drift**

BANG!

"This is for your own good, kiddo. You need to learn everyone has to follow the rules."

BANG!

_"You can't go, man - what about college? What about all our plans? Your scholarship? You can't just leave every time you have a beef with your dad." _

BANG!

_"I've had my eye on you. You're the most natural cop I've ever seen. You ever heard of the Ace Case?"_

BANG!

_"You're never leaving this basement, kid. Welcome to hell."_

BANG!

_"I loved her, you know. I really did. But I don't blame you."_

BANG!

Shawn slowly exhaled as he relaxed, lowering the gun onto the table in front of him. He pressed a button and yanked the protective glasses off his face as the machine began to whir, taking the target towards him. He moaned faintly and rubbed his eyes, trying to block the memories coming to him. _Sometimes, having a photographic memory really sucks._

"Glad to see you can still shoot at a target," a voice suddenly called, startling him. He whirled and saw Charlie approaching him, a pair of glasses dangling in his hand.

"Thought you'd be up there for awhile longer," Shawn replied casually, reloading his gun with quick, fluid movements.

"I slipped away - told them I had some things to take care of," Hixson answered, putting a new target up before sending it back again. "May I?"

Shawn handed him his weapon and stepped back. Hixson put on his protective glasses, raised the gun and sighted. There was a long moment of silence before Hixson suddenly released six rapid-fire shots. After another pause, he lowered the gun and reloaded it. "Your turn," he declared, turning towards Shawn.

Shawn blinked, startled. He looked up at the older man, slightly confused. "What?"

Hixson sighed and set the gun on the table. "You okay, Spence? You seem really out of it."

Shawn shrugged, moving to pick up the gun. "Just thinking."

Hixson put a hand over Shawn's to prevent him from taking the gun. "Spence."

"What do you want me to say, Charlie?" Shawn snapped. "You know how my mind works. Why are you asking when you already know what I'm going through?"

"Because I want _you_ to tell me. It doesn't do either of us any good if you can't talk about what's going on in that thick skull of yours," Hixson shot back.

Shawn chuckled humorlessly. "You sound just like Jenny."

"Jenny?"

"Jennifer Henderson - my psychiatrist back then," Shawn replied, leaning against the table and folding his arms. He looked at Charlie for a long moment. "Why didn't you ever call me? Or visit?" he asked softly.

"I did visit you," Hixson defended.

"I mean, visit me after I got out of the hospital. Logan said you called him once. You didn't even do _that_ for me," Shawn said accusingly.

"Logan didn't have anyone to turn to - both of his parents were dead. As I recall, you had a father within easy driving distance," Hixson answered coolly.

"And what was I supposed to say? 'Hey, Dad, sorry I haven't talked to you since you threw me in the slammer. You wanna come visit me over in LA? Oh, by the way, I graduated from the Academy at the top of my class, spent two weeks suffering in Hell, and killed one of my partners. How's life been for you?' Puh-lease," Shawn shot back, scoffing.

"Hey, hey!" Hixson exclaimed. "You did _not_ kill Nat, Shawn."

"I may as well have," Shawn replied, his gaze falling to the floor. "He warned me - he warned me, and I didn't listen."

"Spence, you did what you had to. If you hadn't made that call, you and Logan would be dead, too, and McKillian would have probably killed another ten people before we could have caught him. Natalie understood the danger when she took the assignment, just like you and Logan," Hixson said, placing his hands firmly on Shawn's shoulders.

"I know! I know," Shawn replied, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "I just - there had to have been another way. I could've found another way."

"I said it then, I'll say it now - it's a miracle you're still alive, Spence," Hixson said seriously. "When we got to Logan, I thought _he _was in bad shape, but it was nothing compared to you. Everyone was astounded you were coherent, let alone able to sneak up those stairs and use the phone. Now, then," he said abruptly, snatching the gun up off the table and handing it to Shawn. Shawn took it and looked up at the captain with one eyebrow raised. Hixson pointed at the target.

With a roll of his eyes and a sigh, Shawn slid his glasses back on and took up his stance. Six loud retorts later, Charlie had pressed the button to recall the target. Then the pair leaned on the table as the target moved toward them. Hixson grinned as the target came to a halt in front of them, eyeing the six sets of overlapping bullet holes. "Damn, kid. You're still the best shot I've ever seen."

"You can thank my dad for that," Shawn replied nonchalantly, reloading the gun. There was a faint tinge of pink in his cheeks.

"I would like to meet him someday," Hixson commented casually.

Shawn opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the shrill ring of a phone. Hixson immediately snatched his phone off the holder clipped to his belt. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the number. "Excuse me," he said tersely to Shawn before walking out of the room. Shawn frowned as the older man's footsteps receded.

He turned his attention back to the gun, reloading it again for about the fifth time. He sent another target back, pushed his glasses up on his nose slightly, and rubbed at his eyes again as he waited for it to reach its mark. _Just shoot. Don't think. Don't feel. Just shoot_, he chanted silently, opening his eyes and letting the glasses settle back on his nose. He raised his arms, sighted, and-

"_What_ in the name of all that is holy are you doing in this building, Spencer?"

The shot just nicked the target, causing the heavy paper to flutter, before the bullet embedded itself in the wall behind the target. Shawn whirled, the gun aimed at Lassiter's startled and angry face. He immediately plastered a grin on his face, dropping his arms to conceal their shaking. "Lassie!"

Lassiter cocked an eyebrow at him. "Spencer. Don't make me repeat myself."

Shawn shrugged, setting the gun back on the table and pulling off his glasses. "I'm pretty sure you can tell what I'm doing, Lassie," he said with a smirk, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Don't tell me your physical sight has become as bad as your spiritual."

Lassiter folded his arms. "Har har. Where's your long lost buddy?"

Shawn leaned casually against the wall. "You mean Hixson? I thought you passed him coming in. He left a couple minutes ago to take a phone call."

Lassiter sighed with annoyance, rolling his eyes. "Of course," he grumbled, turning away once more. He paused, then turned back to face Shawn, the beginnings of what looked like - _could it be? _Shawn wondered - a grin on his face. "And the goal of the range is to hit the target, Spencer," the Head Detective declared smugly.

Shawn kept his face carefully neutral. "Thanks, Carly. I'll remember that," he deadpanned as the older man disappeared through the door.

As soon as he was certain Lassiter was far away, Shawn whirled, snatching the gun up in one hand and sending the next five shots one after the other, not even taking the time to properly sight. The gun clicked a few times, and he slowly lowered his trembling arm, panting for breath, his eyes dark with anger.

"Spence? Spence, you okay?"

Shawn turned to see Hixson standing in the doorway, one hand still gripping his phone, his forehead wrinkled with concern, adding ten years to his face. "I'm just fine," he replied tersely. "Lassiter was looking for you."

Hixson frowned, clipping his phone back onto his belt. "That was Logan. His plane just landed. He needs someone to pick him up at the airport. Or at least give him a location to tell the cab driver."

"I can get him," Shawn replied, bringing the target back to him one last time. The heart area of the target had been reduced to a gaping hole, and the psychic smirked at it satisfactorily.

"You have a car now, Spence?" Hixson asked, slightly surprised, bringing Shawn's eyes back to his face.

"Only for about another two days or so… I'm test driving this sweet Porsche. Spitfire red, leather seats…" At Hixson's skeptical look, Shawn grinned sheepishly. "Okay, so it's a ninety-three Oldsmobile, cloth seats, gray, automatic transmission… but it's in 'like-new' condition. It's the only one the dealer would let me drive… which, seeing as how he was the bad guy, makes a lot more sense now-"

"Whatever, Spence," Hixson cut in, shaking his head ruefully. "I get the point. Just get going, though, would you? By the time you get over there, the kid's gonna have been waiting for a good hour at least."

"On it, Boss," Shawn replied, heading towards the door.

Hixson shook his head and followed Shawn back into the main area of the station. He spotted Lassiter conversing with Vick and the blonde detective he saw earlier that morning. He noted with a frown that Shawn had managed to pull a complete disappearing act without the others noticing he was even there in the first place. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, striding over to the trio.

Their heads all snapped up to look at him. "We just received this note," Vick declared, handing the Captain a bagged piece of paper. Hixson's eyes narrowed as he viewed the note through the bag. The letters flowed in a small, tight script, belying the harshness of the message it contained.

_This is my first warning. Those who escaped will pay. The end is coming._

At the end of the letters was a dark, hand drawn spades symbol. Hixson's eyes flew back up to the trio. "When did you get this?" he demanded. "Who delivered it?"

"It was dropped into an officer's mailbox about an hour ago," Lassiter replied. "Can you tell us what it means?"

Hixson's eyes shot to the doors leading outside, then back down at the note. "Trouble," he muttered. "Serious trouble."

* * *

Shawn strolled around the terminal, his eyes picking through faces in the crowd. He had checked the screens several times, but he wasn't sure if Logan was flying in through Denver or Salt Lake City, since there were no direct flights from Bozeman.

"Spence? Spence, is that you?" a voice suddenly called out from off to his left.

Shawn whirled and caught sight of a familiar face. He grinned. "Hey, Logan!" he exclaimed, cutting his way through the crowd towards the man.

Logan Secker was tall, standing up above most of the crowd, although the cowboy hat perched on top of his thick dark hair added to the effect greatly. His lean frame was clothed in jeans and a green polo shirt that matched his eyes. "Dude, I like the hat," Shawn said with a laugh as he stared up at the taller man.

Logan grinned. "Nice to see you, too, Spence," he replied, a slight Montana drawl to his voice. His eyes shot to Shawn's hair. "Glad to see you haven't changed your style," he added with a smirk, reaching down and picking up a stuffed, oversized duffel bag.

"You don't need to mess with perfection, man," Shawn replied with a broad grin as they headed back towards the exit. "Besides, if anything, it looks like you've regressed."

Logan shrugged. "Well, you know, when you run a ranch, you're kinda expected to wear this stuff."

There was an awkward pause for a moment. "So… you took over the Lazy D?" Shawn finally asked hesitantly.

Logan nodded somberly. "Steve passed away a couple years back. Anne's in a retirement home in town," he said quietly. He sighed. "Steve didn't want anyone else taking control of the farm. He knew I would never sell it off. It was Nat's dream, after all."

"Move away from L.A. to live on her grandfather's farm," Shawn finished with a nod, absentmindedly fingering the necklace under his shirt. _I'm still saving it for you, Nat… I won't ever take it off unless you ask me to._

"So how have you been?" Logan asked. "Did you decide to become a cop?"

Shawn shook his head firmly. "Nope. No way, dude. Not after… but anyway," he hastily added, "you'll never believe what I'm doing now…"

They made their way out to where Shawn had parked the car, Logan laughing and making jokes as Shawn described his newfound "calling". "So apparently this job made you settle down enough to get a car," Logan suddenly declared when they reached the car Shawn was using at the moment.

Shawn grinned. "Nope. Still drive a bike. This is just a perk that comes with the job."

Logan eyed the car skeptically. "If this is a perk, I'd hate to see the other end of the spectrum."

"Watch your mouth, Secker," Shawn shot back with a grin. "Or you'll find yourself walking."

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots," Logan replied with a smirk, tossing his duffel bag into the back seat.

Shawn's eyes shot downward for a brief moment before he climbed into the car. "You could even do that literally with those boots you have on, Logan," he teased. "Do you have a set of spurs to match those things?"

"You betcha," Logan declared with a laugh.

As they pulled away, Shawn said, "Hope you don't mind camping out on the couch at my apartment. Unless you want to go to a hotel."

"No, a couch should be fine for tonight. I'll let you know tomorrow if I want a hotel," Logan replied, settling back into his seat and closing his eyes. He tipped his hat forward so it covered his face. "Wake me when we get there."

Shawn rolled his eyes as he turned onto a back road. He flicked on his headlights. The sun was starting to set, and this particular way was rather shady because of the houses and trees. He caught sight of a car not far behind them leaving its lights off. He frowned slightly, but put his focus back on the road in front of them.

They drove on in silence for another few minutes. Shawn kept flicking his view back between the rearview mirror and the road. "Hey, Lo'?" he muttered quietly.

"Yeah, I see it," Logan replied, tipping his hat up to show he was staring at the side mirror. "Definitely following us, I'd say. You are totally going in circles."

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that. Hold on," he declared, pressing down on the gas a little bit more. He noted with growing anxiety that the car behind them was matching their pace exactly.

Suddenly there was a soft _crack_, and the mirror on Logan's side spider webbed into a million pieces. "Holy crap, the dude's got a gun!" the rancher exclaimed, yanking his hat off completely and twisting around in his seat to get a better view.

Shawn's mouth set into a grim line as he floored it. The car behind them suddenly shot forward, rapidly closing the gap between them. "Hang on!" Shawn exclaimed, spotting a turn up ahead. The tires squealed as he yanked the wheel hard to the right. Logan gripped the seat tightly, his knuckles going right as his body was pulled sideways by the forces. The car fishtailed slightly before straightening out as Shawn accelerated again.

"He's still on our tail," Logan remarked, spotting the car executing the same turn.

Shawn clenched his teeth. They were getting closer and closer into heavy traffic areas now - something he did not want to get into. On the other hand…

"This is gonna be fun," he quipped tightly as he headed for the highway.

"I hate it when you say that," Logan groaned, turning back around and buckling his seatbelt again.

Shawn seamlessly steered through traffic, darting through lights and taking right turns when a red light was unavoidable. Luckily, traffic was pretty light at the moment, and he managed to get all the way to the onramp without having to stop once. Unfortunately, the car tailing them had the same pleasure, and merged onto the highway right after them.

Now it was getting tricky. Even though the rush hour had relatively passed, there were still a lot of cars traveling down the road. Glancing in the rearview mirror again, Shawn began weaving in and out of the cars, trying to put as much distance between them and their tail as possible.

However, the cars around him were also breaking every time he cut in front of them, giving the other car the opportunity to catch up. As Shawn maneuvered into the far left lane, he saw the other car do the same. "There's gotta be…" His frantic mutterings trailed off as he suddenly spotted a way out of the situation.

Logan's eyes followed his glance, and he groaned. "Spence-"

"I've gotta take it," Shawn replied, his tone clipped, a tight smile on his face. His eyes darted around, taking in the necessary details - the distance, the number of cars in the other lanes, and the location of their tail. "Right," he muttered finally. His hands tensed. "Here goes!"

He suddenly yanked the wheel hard to the right again. Brakes squealed as other cars panicked at the small car's sudden movement. Shawn was practically perpendicular to the other cars as he aimed for the off ramp. He smirked as he caught sight of the tail getting boxed in by the other cars.

His eyes shot forward again as the car lurched. The left-side tires had just clipped the short median dividing the highway from the beginning of the onramp. He jerked the wheel hard to the left and aimed for the light at the end of the ramp. With squealing tires, he sped through a yellow left turn light and started weaving through cars once again.

After another few minutes of driving, he pulled into a grocery store parking lot and parked in the middle of an expanse of cars. Shawn shut off the engine and leaned back in his seat, practically prying his fingers off the steering wheel. His head flopped to the right to look at his friend.

Logan was in much the same position. He almost looked completely relaxed, except for his tense jaw and clenched fists. His green eyes flicked from the shattered mirror to the driver's face. They stared at each other for a moment before Logan smirked and chuckled.

"Well, Spence, you sure do know how to show a fella a good time."

_A/N: As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading! Merry Christmas!_

_moogsthewriter_


	6. No Coffee for Me, Thanks I'll Just Tak

**_Complete Summary: _**

**_Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process._**

**_No one knew._**

**_Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list._**

**_With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?_**

**_Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?_**

**_Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules._**

_A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! Here's your Christmas present! First off... as always..._

_**hollowheart3** - Heehee - I wuv you too. Glad you're enjoying it!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Thanks! Glad you liked it._

_**Kippling Croft** - You're right on both accounts - having Gus in the back would've messed with the plot... but it would have been so funny! XD Thanks for the review!_

_**HPSmallCharm29** - Thanks so much! Hope this is fast enough for you!_

_**criminally charmed** - I'm glad I've got you hooked. Yes, you and I are both looking forward to that chapter, but it probably won't be for a little while yet. Enjoy this in the meantime, though!_

_**rave- up** - Welcome! Don't worry, my English isn't the best either, and I'm American. ;) It's so cool to know I've got fans overseas - way, way cool! I hope you like this!_

_**winged-monkey** - Yes - yay for Christmas! Glad you liked it, IC - it's always good to hear from my sewerbuddies! _

_**Dark-Sky-of-Avalon** - Thanks so much! I, too, would love to have no delays or problems, and so far it's been going pretty well, considering everything I'm doing at the moment. Glad you're enjoying it!_

_**Vires-Strength** - You and me both, dude. Roday shooting a gun... makes me drool just thinking about it. ;)_

_Once again, thanks to all my reviewers and readers! And a super special thanks to my beta, mav32, for the awesome work! Love ya, girl! _

_Hope you all had a blessed Christmas, and for those who may not celebrate - hope you all had a great day, and enjoy this gift!

* * *

_

**No Coffee for Me, Thanks - I'll Just Take a Little Nap**

Interim Chief Karen Vick inhaled deeply as she brought the vehicle to a stop. She peered at the building in front of her over the top of the sunglasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Shifting the vehicle into park, she let the engine idle for a moment, bracing herself for the upcoming situation. She had put this off as long as possible… but this was something that had to be done.

Finally, in one fluid movement, she turned the key and slid it out, exhaling through her nose as she stepped from the car onto the cracked, aged sidewalk. Her heels _pocked_ briskly as she strode up to the door, the sound bouncing off the walls of the building slightly.

She stopped in surprise, her finger poised to ring the doorbell, as her gaze collided with the all-too-familiar silent, demanding gaze of the man on the opposite side of the door. For the faintest of moments, she felt like a rookie on her first patrol again.

"Henry."

"Karen. Come in," the older man declared calmly, pulling the door open to allow her inside. After a moment's hesitation, Vick stepped through the doorway and followed him to the kitchen table.

"Have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee?" Henry asked, his voice and expression both deathly calm. Vick cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. Her former partner didn't miss the look. "What?"

"I'm just surprised you aren't practically jumping down my throat, demanding to know what's wrong with your son," Vick replied. "And yes, I would love a cup."

Henry was silent for a moment as he moved around his kitchen, snagging two coffee mugs from the cupboard. Peering into them, he frowned and took one over to the sink, rinsing it out briefly with water. Then he shuffled over to the coffee pot on the counter and filled the mugs. "Do you still take two sugars?"

"No, I've toughened up," Vick replied with a small smile. "I'll have it black, please."

Henry chuckled softly as he approached the table, handing her the cleaner mug. "Glad to see you've matured, Karen," he declared, settling down into a chair opposite her. Vick curled her fingers around the steadily warming mug and took a sip, staring at her mentor over the rim of the mug.

He sighed, taking a long draw from his mug. "If Shawn were in serious trouble at the moment, I would have already heard from Gus," he declared finally. Vick's forehead smoothed out in understanding. "But since eight a.m. is a little early to be making a mere social call… what's up, Karen?"

The blonde sighed, setting the mug on the wooden table in front of her. "What do you remember of the McKillian case?" she asked softly.

Henry's gaze narrowed. "Don't tell me you're going after that again, Karen. I told you, you need to let that go. You were just a rookie, there was no way you could've helped find-"

"Henry. Please. Just tell me what you remember."

Henry cocked his head to the side slightly. "Why?" he asked, his voice once again dangerously emotionless.

"Please."

Henry sighed again, leaning back in his chair. "Well, you remember everything just as well as I do. Bastard confessed to torturing and killing ten kids, kidnapped another three, probably killed one of them, too. As far as I know, he's still locked up somewhere, rotting. Why?"

"Did you ever hear anything about a tip being phoned in?" Karen pressed.

Henry's eyes widened, then narrowed. Vick knew he knew what the questioned implied. He did not like where this conversation was heading. "No. What are you-"

"There was a body found down at the docks yesterday. Same M.O. as McKillian," Vick told him softly.

"What?" Henry asked in shock.

Vick nodded grimly. "Not only that, but Captain Charles Hixson showed up yesterday, too."

Henry cocked an eyebrow. "The guy who arrested McKillian?"

"Mmmhmm," Vick answered, staring into the coffee cup.

"Karen, what does this have to do with Shawn?" Henry demanded. Seeing her look, he continued, "There's only a few reasons why you would visit me personally rather than call me into the station or talk over the phone, and he's one of them. So what does this have to do with Shawn?"

"He knows Hixson."

The clock on the wall _tick_ed twelve times as Henry processed that. "So? It could just be coincidence," he finally managed to say. "Shawn knows a lot of people. The kid's a people magnet."

Karen shot him a knowing look. Henry sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. "Tell me what happened."

"Did you know Shawn and Gus were working on an embezzlement case?" the Chief queried.

"I knew it was something of that nature, but neither one never told me any specifics about it," Henry replied. His eyes suddenly widened. "Does this have anything to do with that embezzlement and murder case that was on the news last night?"

Karen nodded once. "It has everything to do with that. That was they business they were investigating. I was over at the docks when Gus called me." She paused, pondering just how much to diverge to the elder Spencer. "The car salesman was shooting at them," she said finally.

Henry didn't respond to that verbally, but Vick saw the hand gripping the mug handle tighten considerably. "When we got there, we tried to get a clear shot to take him out, but the cars prevented that. He spotted Shawn and Gus and…" She swallowed once, trying to suppress the memory of the horrified realization that the psychic was about to be shot right in front of her.

The soft _clunk_ of Henry setting his mug on the table jolted her back to the present. He stared at her expectantly. "And?"

"Hixson showed up in the nick of time. He managed to disarm the salesman before he could shoot Sh- before he could shoot them," she finished finally.

Henry folded his arms, noting the slip-up, but letting it slide. "That's awfully convenient. What's he in town for? It can't be just a coincidence that there was a copycat crime and he randomly shows up."

"It wasn't. He said he had received an anonymous note from someone he felt may have been McKillian's accomplice, warning him the murders would resume," Vick answered.

"You still haven't completely answered my question, though," Henry pointed out. "What does this have to do with Shawn?"

Vick sighed. "Hixson told me Shawn was the one who tipped them off to McKillian's location."

Henry stared at her for another eight _ticks_ of the clock. "Why would he have never told us?" he asked finally, his voice tense.

"Has Shawn always been driven to get everything right?" Vick asked quietly.

Henry nodded. "That's what got him into a lot of trouble, generally - his 'quest for truth' or some such nonsense. Nosiness is what it was."

Vick paused for a moment, then said, "Hixson said Shawn wasn't able to find the Daly girl. 'He was partly right' were his exact words."

Henry grabbed his mug again, taking a long sip of his coffee. "You think he felt guilty about not being able to save the girl with those two other kids." It was a statement, not a question.

The younger woman chewed her lip, searching for a way to articulate herself. "Not entirely. The look on Shawn's face when he first saw Hixson… wasn't… entirely… pleased. He looked almost… shocked. Horrified, actually."

Henry frowned, but didn't say anything. The clock _tick_ed steadily, the soft sounds seeming to reverberate through the kitchen. Finally, Vick tentatively asked, "Do you have any idea what may have happened? I thought that since you and Shawn seem to have redeemed your relationship a little… maybe…"

"He's never told me about what happened during that time. There's a good chunk of his life I know almost nothing about." There was a pause for a moment, before Henry continued, "All I know is that two days after his high school graduation, we got into a huge fight."

_That's an understatement,_ Vick thought. The entire station heard the Spencers yelling at each other through the jail bars that night. The aftermath of that argument was one of the three times she had seen Henry completely shut down. He was totally unaware of everything that happened in the station that night.

"He left as soon as he was released. Snuck into the house while I was on patrol one night. Cleared all of his necessities out of the room. Never said goodbye. Didn't hear a word from him for two years," Henry continued, rising to wash the now-empty mugs. "Then one day, out of the blue, I got a phone call. He was in town, over at Gus'. I saw him once before he took off again. He dropped me postcards a little more regularly from his world travels after that. At least he gained enough consideration to let me know he was alive."

Vick winced inwardly at the harsh sarcasm in her former partner's tone. "So, no. I have no idea what happened over that period of time. You'd be better off asking Gus. Shawn tells him everything," Henry finished, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"Not everything, apparently."

Vick's whispered words were enough to make Henry stop in his tracks. "What?"

"I just get the impression Gus was just as confused as the rest of us," Vick told him. "He guessed that Shawn got to know Hixson while he was gone, but he had no clue about it beforehand."

Henry leaned against his sink, folding his arms. "So what are you going to do now?"

Vick sighed, leaning back in her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I don't know _what_ to do," she replied finally, opening her eyes to look at him. "I already know it will be of no use to ask Shawn for information. And you and Gus don't know anything either. And something tells me Hixson isn't going to be opening up anytime soon."

She was cut off by the rhythmic vibration of her phone. Plucking it up off her hip, she stared at the number for a moment before answering it. "Vick." She listened for a beat before saying, "You're sure? Okay. Yes. Yes. I think so. Okay. Thanks, O'Hara. I'll be there soon."

"Trouble?" Henry asked as the blond moved to pinch the bridge of her nose again.

"They've got an ID on the victim. His parents will be at the station within the hour," Vick affirmed, getting to her feet. She looked at the elder Spencer. "Thanks for the coffee, Henry."

Henry nodded once. "And thank you for the heads up. You'll get to the bottom of this, Karen. I have faith in you."

Vick blinked in surprise at the rare vote of confidence before smiling faintly. "Thanks, Henry. I really do appreciate it."

* * *

"Alright, someone tell me what we've got!" Vick demanded as she strode into the station. 

O'Hara suddenly materialized at her side, a file in her hands. "Victim's name was Michael Connors. 19 years old, freshman at U.C. Berkley. Originally lived in L.A."

"What was he doing in Santa Barbara?" Vick asked, taking the file from the younger blonde to peruse it briefly.

"His parents weren't sure - they're in Interrogation Room A, if you want to speak with them. Lassiter and Captain Hixson are already in there," O'Hara replied.

"And Mr. Spencer?"

"He was a little hard to understand over the phone - he had just woken up. But I would expect him to be here any time," O'Hara told her. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she added, "He mentioned something about taking an 'old friend' with - I'm not sure what he meant."

"Are you sure he didn't mean Mr. Guster?" Vick pointed out, flipping the folder shut and looking at the Junior Detective.

She turned as Juliet nodded behind her and saw with some surprise the young salesman already standing outside the interrogation room. She looked confused once more. "Then who-?"

"Hey, Chief! Jules! Gus," a familiar voice suddenly called. The trio turned to see Shawn striding in the door, an unfamiliar figure in tow.

"Mr. Spencer? Who is this?" Vick asked as the psychic and the dark-haired stranger drew up next to them.

"Logan Secker," the man declared, thrusting out his hand. Vick shook it slowly, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two.

"We worked together once. On a cruise ship," Shawn explained with a grin. Vick blinked as Logan's eyes narrowed slightly before the man turned to look at O'Hara and Gus.

"Logan, this is Detective Juliet O'Hara," Shawn said as Logan shook hands with the blond.

"Delighted to meet you, ma'am," Logan informed her with an easy smile, his voice twanging slightly. Juliet blushed.

"And this here is Burton Guster, the most awesome dude ever," Shawn finished, pounding fists with his very confused best friend.

"So you're Gus. I've heard a lot about you," Logan declared, shaking hands. "Spence here talked about you all the time."

"Really? I'm afraid I've never heard about you before," Gus replied, shooting an inquisitive glance at the pseudo-psychic.

"Oh, I'm not too surprised. I'm sure Shawn met all sorts of interesting characters over the years. Not much to distinguish me from the crowd," Logan answered.

"What did you need us down here for, Chief?" Shawn cut in, his voice cracking just a little bit. Gus frowned, but let it slide for the moment.

"We've got Michael Connors' parents in an interrogation room," Vick explained, glancing over at the window again.

They all peered inside. A stout, muscular man was cradling his rather petite blond wife, each silently crying together. To the side, Hixson and Lassiter were silently watching, letting them grieve privately for a moment. "Michael Connors?" Gus repeated.

"The victim from the pier," Shawn murmured quietly, putting a hand on the glass.

They all glanced at him. "Yes," Vick replied.

She tapped softly on the window. Lassiter and Hixson's heads jerked up. Lassiter muttered something in Hixson's ear, then said what must have been, "Excuse us for a moment." The microphone wasn't on, so they couldn't hear the words, but the pair strode from the room as Mr. Connors nodded.

"What did you - who's this?" Lassiter suddenly asked, shifting his gaze from Vick to Logan.

Logan stuck his hand out once more. "Logan Secker."

"Oh, this is Detective Lassiter, and that's Captain Hixson, with the LAPD," Shawn introduced. "This is Logan. He's a friend of mine."

Gus noted with a small frown that Hixson and Logan didn't shake hands - they merely nodded at each other. He was distracted when Juliet asked, "Did you find out anything?"

Lassiter sighed faintly. "Connors was supposed to be up at school this past weekend. They talked to him over the phone on Thursday, and he specifically mentioned a concert he was hoping to go to on campus on Saturday. As soon as they've recovered a bit, I'm planning on finding out the names of some of his friends, see if we can nail down the exact time of his disappearance."

"May I see the file?" Shawn asked, looking at the Chief.

Vick blinked in surprise. "Sure, I guess," she answered, handing him the file. Shawn took it and backed up a few steps, flipping it open.

"So assuming he did make it to the concert, and given that it's now Wednesday…" Juliet trailed off as she made some mental calculations. "That's only around forty-eight hours for him to have been grabbed, tortured, and killed before his body was dumped."

"Has the coroner determined a time of death yet?" Vick inquired.

Both Lassiter and O'Hara shook their heads. "Not yet," they said together.

"They also had this with them," Hixson said softly, holding up an evidence bag. They could all see a playing card inside. "It's McKillian's calling card," he added, turning it around to reveal the ace of spades.

"Spence?" Logan suddenly called, his voice full of concern.

They all whirled to see Shawn staring wide-eyed at the card. The folder was loosely clenched in his right hand, and his left hand gripped a crime-scene photo. His face was white, and his eyes were glazed over with terror. "Shawn?" Gus exclaimed, taking a step forward. He paused when Hixson laid a hand on his arm. The captain's eyes were oddly bright as he stared at the trembling figure in front of them.

Gus opened his mouth to demand what was going on, but snapped his jaw shut and twisted his head back as a strange sound issued from Shawn's open mouth. His eyes widened as he heard the sound again and recognized it.

Shawn was _whimpering_.

"Spencer?" Lassiter called, his eyebrows furrowed as the file and photo slipped from his hand, sending papers flying everywhere. "What-"

"No. Please," Shawn gasped, taking a step back as the Head Detective moved towards him. Lassiter paused, utter confusion etched on his features.

"Shawn? Shawn, what's wrong?" Gus asked, taking a couple of steps towards his friend.

Shawn's eyes moved to lock with his. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling as violently as his hands were. His eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and he collapsed in a limp heap.

_A/N: ... I too would love to wake up and find a present in my stocking... er... e-mail. So... review? Please? Thanks again for reading, and have a great rest of the year!_

_moogsthewriter_


	7. Why So Glum? There's Pineapple!

**_Complete Summary: _**

**_Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process._**

**_No one knew._**

**_Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list._**

**_With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?_**

**_Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?_**

**_Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules._**

_A/N: Wow, it's been awhile. Sorry I took so long guys! And thanks for all your great reviews! I'm gonna switch things up a bit and put those review replies at the end of the chapter, cuz I have so many! Also, I'm gonna start trying to reply via personal message after this, unless I get anonymous reviews - those I'll still reply to on here, if I need to. _

_Also, I promise we're getting closer to figuring out what happened to Shawn all those years ago, but it's still a few chapters away, so just hang in there with me, okay? We'll get there - I promise! (It may take awhile for updates, but it will be finished!)_

_Oh, and there is some minor language in here, just so y'all know! Enjoy!_

"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed, shooting forward to try and catch his friend before he smacked into the floor. Logan moved at the same time, the pair nearly knocking their heads together in their frantic attempts to catch the man.

Fortunately they each managed to loop an arm under Shawn's armpits before he hit the ground. Gus shifted to put more of Shawn's limp weight on him, shooting a glance up at Logan. Logan released him, returning a worried glance of his own.

"What on earth could've caused him to do that?" Vick wondered as Gus adjusted his body to get Shawn to stretch out more. He swallowed hard as the psychic's head lolled on his shoulder lifelessly.

"I have no idea," Gus replied. "He - he may have been overwhelmed by the spirits or something. I've never seen him react this violently before, though."

Unnoticed by the others, Logan and Hixson exchanged knowing glances. "Is there someplace we can take him?" Hixson asked, nodding behind Vick and Lassiter. They looked to see a group of officers gathering around to see what the cause of all the commotion was.

"The break room," Lassiter said gruffly, moving to help Gus pull Shawn up. "O'Hara, go grab the smelling salts from one of the first aid kits." Juliet nodded and headed off to the bullpen in search of the salts.

"C'mon, Guster, let's get him up," the Head Detective groaned, grabbing one of the pseudo-psychic's seemingly boneless arms and slinging it over his shoulders. Gus scrambled to his feet, pulling Shawn's other arm over his own shoulders, and together they drug the unconscious man to the break room. There was a distinct shuffle of papers as Vick and Hixson worked to gather up the scattered pages from the file Shawn had dropped on the floor.

"Lay him out over on the couch. Secker, help get his feet propped up on it," Lassiter ordered as they steered the limp man into the room. Logan moved to grab Shawn's legs, and together the trio gently stretched the fake psychic out on the couch.

"He hasn't eaten anything yet, either," Logan murmured quietly, looking at Gus. Gus looked up sharply.

"What?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Lassiter demanded, glancing from the motionless figure on the couch up to the pair.

"Shawn never skips breakfast. _Never_," Gus replied forcefully, striding over to the small fridge and pulling it open. "He may skip every other meal, but never breakfast." His eyes widened in surprise, and he pulled out a bowl of cut pineapple.

"McNabb's become addicted to the stuff," Lassiter replied with a shrug and a roll of the eyes. Gus hesitated, then put the bowl on the nearby counter and looked back in the fridge.

"Got some!" Juliet exclaimed, striding into the room with a small packet in her hands.

"Toss 'em to me," Lassiter ordered, holding up his hands. The paper package landed in his palms with a soft _thump_. Ripping the pack open, he knelt down next to Shawn, propped his head up with one hand, and wafted the salts back and forth under the psychic's nose.

After a long moment, the muscles around Shawn's eyes started to twitch and he let out a low groan. "Get 'em away," he muttered, moving his head and sluggishly raising his arms to try and force the foul-smelling salts away.

"Shawn?" Gus called, slamming the fridge door shut and materializing next to Lassiter a moment later, staring down at the pseudo-psychic with wide eyes. "Shawn, you okay?"

Shawn blinked a few times, his eyes gradually sliding into focus as he took in the small crowd gathered around him. "Wh-what happened?" he moaned, rubbing his face.

"You passed out," Juliet answered. "You were looking at the Connors file when you went real pale, muttered some stuff, and collapsed. Do you remember?"

Shawn's eyes slid over all their faces, lingering a little longer on Logan's face, before finally settling on Gus'. "I - vaguely," he replied, propping himself up on an elbow. "The emotions I was getting from the spirits - they were just so overwhelming. I could - I could feel the panic that poor kid had before he - before he died." He shuddered, rubbing his face again. Gus' eyes narrowed.

"Here," he declared, handing Shawn a fork and holding out the bowl of pineapple. "Eat something."

"Gus, I don't-"

"Shawn. Eat. It," Gus said in his sternest voice, causing the others gathered around the pair to blink in surprise. Shawn stared at him for a moment before grinning faintly.

"Yes, sir!" he replied smartly, spearing a piece of fruit with the fork.

There was a silent sigh of relief throughout the room as Shawn loudly munched on the pineapple. Lassiter stood, tossing the smelling salts in a nearby garbage can. "Are you sure that's all it was, Spencer?" he demanded, turning back to face the man on the couch. When Shawn cocked a puzzled eyebrow at him, he continued, "Your… 'episode' or whatever. Just a reaction to the 'spirits'?"

Shawn smirked faintly. "You sure you don't want to add some air quotes to that, Lassie?" he asked, raising his fingers to make the marks.

Lassiter glared at him, voice flat as he stated, "Spencer."

The hardened detective blinked at the flash of terror that flickered in the hazel eyes for the faintest instant before the psychic bowed his head. "Yes. For a - for a brief moment, I could - could picture what Michael went through b-before his - his death," he murmured.

"Oh, Shawn," Juliet breathed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Shawn stiffened at the touch for a brief moment before relaxing. "I'm fine, Jules. I'll be fine."

There was a moment of silence as Shawn ate a much smaller piece of pineapple. "Tell me – was Mr. Connors involved in law enforcement at all?" he asked finally, his voice hollow.

"Yes," Juliet replied, her voice slightly surprised, as Vick and Lassiter shot each other confused glances. "He's a police officer in the LAPD."

"Do you know him?" Shawn asked immediately, looking at Hixson.

"Only in passing. Do you know everyone in this station intimately?" Hixson demanded when they all looked at him skeptically. He smirked slightly at the acknowledging looks on their faces. "My point exactly. And there are a lot more officers in LA than Santa Barbara."

Their glances all shot back to the couch as Shawn's hand suddenly flew to his temple, his eyes closed. Gus' eyes narrowed when he saw the faintest of tremors vibrating up and down Shawn's arm. "I'm getting something…"

"Great," Lassiter muttered under his breath, looking ceiling-wards for the briefest of moments.

"Something… something with a – a wall? And a city?" Shawn continued, his pale face twisting in concentration. "No – no, not a city. A suburb – burb – wallburb… Wahlberg?"

"Mark Wahlberg? The actor?" Gus asked, puzzled.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Hixson demanded.

"Wait – wait, there's more," Shawn said, holding up his other hand. The others all looked at each other, extremely confused. "This – this isn't making sense…"

"What else is new?" Lassiter groused. He blinked in surprise when Juliet whacked his arm, her gaze still focused on the psychic.

"Another wall… another pair of walls? Two… walls… Du… walls…"

"Duvall? As in Robert Duvall and Mark Wahlberg?" Logan offered.

"_We Own the Night_?" Gus added, his eyes widening in recognition.

Shawn's eyes popped open. "Yes! Yes! _We Own the Night_ – Mark Wahlberg played Robert Duvall's cop son! Did Michael Connors want to follow in his father's footsteps?"

"Yeah – he was studying biochemistry so he could go into forensics," Juliet confirmed.

"Well _that _was a roundabout way to get information," Hixson drawled, rolling his eyes.

"I can't control how the spirits decide to send me information, _Captain_," Shawn shot back venomously, glaring sharply at the older man. Gus and Juliet stared at each other in surprise at the tone of his voice as Hixson held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still pulling at his lips.

"Chief, I need to talk to the victim's parents," Shawn continued, sliding his gaze to the older blonde.

Vick looked skeptical. "Are you sure you're up to it, Mister Spencer?" she asked dubiously.

"Totally, Chief. I need to get a reading. Please?" Shawn replied, getting to his feet. Vick's eyes narrowed slightly as the psychic wobbled for a brief moment before fixing a pleading stare on her.

Finally she sighed in defeat. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt – I could use all the help I can get on this case," she conceded.

Shawn grinned. "Thanks, Chief!" he said, whirling and flouncing out of the room with an almost exaggerated bounce in his step.

"Does he ever stop?" Lassiter wondered, a faint hint of wonder mixed with annoyance in his voice.

"Sometimes I wish he would," Gus groused, striding out after his best friend. _Oh, how I wish he would,_ he added silently.

He sighed in frustration as the door to the interrogation room quietly clicked shut ahead of him. "And he can't even wait for anyone else," he grumbled under his breath, moving toward the window and quietly turning the microphone on so he could listen to Shawn's questioning.

"What are you doing here? Where are the Captain and Detective Lassiter?" Connors was demanding, his arms still firmly around his weeping wife.

"My name is Shawn Spencer. I'm a… consultant with the Santa Barbara–"

"I've heard of you – you're the psychic!" the officer cut in, his voice rough, almost accusing. Gus' eyes narrowed at the tone as the others gathered around to watch. He turned slightly when he felt a small hand on his shoulder and saw Juliet looking up at him sympathetically. He smiled faintly and turned back to the one-way mirror.

"Yes, I am," Shawn admitted quietly, settling into the seat across the table from the couple. "I wanted to ask you a few questions."

"Aren't you supposed to prevent stuff like this?" Mrs. Connors cut in, her voice high and trembling. Her piercing blue eyes were narrowed in a watery glare. "Isn't it your job to prevent things like this? Why couldn't you stop this?"

"How could she say that?" Juliet breathed from behind Gus. "He can't stop every bad thing from happening!"

Shawn merely stared somberly at the couple. Gus felt something twist deep inside him at the look on his best friend's face. He hadn't seen Shawn look like this since… _Since that day he showed up on my doorstep,_ he realized with wide eyes.

"I don't know, ma'am," Shawn murmured, raising his chin slightly. "I don't know why you and your husband have to go through with this, but I promise you – I _will_ find who did this to your son. No matter what happens, I _will_ find the person responsible."

A grim silence fell over those both inside and outside the room. Gus nearly smiled as Lassiter gave a soft grunt of agreement. _No matter what happens. Why does that give me a really bad feeling?_ Gus wondered faintly.

"What do you need to know?" the petite blond asked finally, her voice still sounding broken, but not as harsh as before.

Shawn smiled faintly. "Why don't you begin by telling me about your son? He was an only child, am I correct?"

"How the hell-?" Lassiter breathed as the couple blinked in surprise.

"Yes, he was," Mr. Connors replied, sounding faintly impressed. He took a shuddering breath, running a hand through his thinning hair. "He just started going to Berkley this past fall. He wanted to go into forensics so he could help stop the bad guys." He laughed hollowly, glancing at Shawn's face before looking at the floor. "Kinda ironic, in a sense."

"He was a popular kid – everyone liked him," his wife continued, picking her purse up off the ground and fumbling around in it. She pulled out a small travel package of tissues and yanked one out, blowing her nose before continuing, "He was the student body president in high school. He always hoped to make a difference."

"When was the last time you heard from him?" Shawn asked quietly, leaning forward on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Gus saw O'Hara, Lassiter, and Vick all glance at each other in surprise at the serious tone of his voice.

_You're stunning them, Shawn. And me, too. What other surprises do you have in store?_ Gus wondered silently, chewing his lip_. Do I even want to know?_

"Thursday," Mrs. Connors replied, sniffling and smiling sadly. "He always called on Thursdays – he didn't have any classes on Thursdays, so he didn't have to worry about having to cut off conversations with us. Not that we talked for horribly long, but… still…"

"He mentioned he wanted to go to his friend's concert on Saturday. He had no plans to leave at all," her husband cut in.

"Would this friend have informed you if Michael hadn't come to his concert?" Shawn asked.

The couple looked at each other for a brief moment. "Yes. Maybe not right away, but he would've known something was off," Mrs. Connors answered. "Josh was Michael's best friend since fourth grade – he would know something was off if Michael broke a promise to him."

"Tell me about Josh," Shawn said finally, leaning back in his chair. Noting their surprised looks, he shrugged faintly. "Just humor me – the more I can glean about Michael and his friends, the more likely I can psychically track his killer."

Mr. Connors still looked a little skeptical, but nodded. "Well… Josh was kinda quiet – we always joked he and Michael were like yin and yang – total opposites. Josh was friendly enough… just reserved."

"It was a good friendship – Josh was the youngest of five kids, so he felt a lot of pressure to live up to the standards his older siblings had set. Michael gave him a sounding board when he got frustrated. He's an excellent musician as well – he's got a lot of potential," Mrs. Connors added, a motherly smile on her face.

"Has he…" Shawn paused and chewed his lip, considering if he should ask the question.

"He was the first person we called when we heard from the police," the blond woman affirmed quietly.

Shawn nodded sympathetically. "I believe that's it for now. Thank you for your time," he declared, standing slowly and moving for the door.

"Mr. Spencer –"

"Call me Shawn, please," Shawn cut in, smiling faintly at the police officer. "Mr. Spencer is my father."

Mr. Connors chuckled. "Fair enough, Shawn. I was… I was wondering… since you're psychic and all… can you – I mean –"

"I have had brief contact with your son's spirit," Shawn murmured quietly, nodding slightly.

"Is he – is he at peace?" Mrs. Connors asked, her eyes watering up again.

There was a brief hesitation before Shawn smiled softly and said, "Yes, Mrs. Connors. Yes, he is."

The petite blonde's shoulders wilted slightly. "Good. Thank you, Mr. – Shawn," she whispered gratefully as she sank back into her husband's embrace. "Thank you for everything."

"We will catch your son's killer. I promise," Shawn declared firmly, his hand resting on the doorknob.

Mr. Connors nodded up at him. "I believe you. Thank you."

Shawn nodded and stepped out of the room. As soon as the door closed, he leaned back against it, closing his eyes and sighing deeply, his shoulders slumping in seeming defeat. "Shawn?" Gus called, moving toward his friend.

"I'm fine, Gus," Shawn replied immediately, straightening up. He looked at all of them sharply. "But we need to catch this son of a bitch. Soon"

_A/N: Alrighty! Thanks for reading, and as always, reviews are appreciated! Now for a few replies..._

_**jas** - Sorry to keep you hanging! Hope this satisfied your need at the moment!_

_**sbeatlesfanatic** - Once again, sorry for the long wait! Hope this helped!_

_**Zagreb-girl** - Thanks! Glad you like it!_

_**Chaney** - Sorry to have you wait so long... that darn real life just gets in the way, ya know! Hopefully this wasn't as big of a cliffie for you!_

_**Keahi Spitfire** - Thanks for the review!_

_**Linda** - You honor me with your words, you really do. This review really made my day when I first read it, and it still humbles me. Thanks so much for letting me know what you think - I really appreciate it!_

_**Artemis no Himitsu** - Thank you so much! As much as I love the humor aspect of the show, it is rather fun to write a more serious fic with it. Glad you're enjoying it!_

_**Hanmyo** - Wow, thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it - I love hearing people like my work! Thanks for reading!_

_**SecretSnow** - Thank you! And if you think that cliffie was bad... just wait for a few more chapters. Heheheh... I'm so evil..._

_**Nytewing** - I really am sorry. I want to get this out just as much as you do. Hope this helped!_

_**FB Edit** - Thanks so much! Glad you like it._

_**winged-monkey** - And I'm sorry it took so long for the next chapter... so I guess we're even. Glad you like it! No galu govad gen!_

_**SharkySheep** - Wow, thanks! Thank you so much! Reviews like that really make my day! Thank you!_

_**rave- up** - Wow, thanks! Glad to see you again! And I'm glad you like it so far!_

_**HPSmallCharm29** - Thanks for the great review!_

_**Kathinka** - Yay for another overseas fan! Call me nerdy, but it's always so cool to know I'm being read across the world... so thanks for letting me know! And I'm glad you like it so far... again, sorry it took so long!_

_**criminally charmed** - Don't worry, I promise all will be made clear soon! Thanks for the review!_

_**Kippling Croft** - True. Very true. And don't worry - that confrontation with Gus is coming up very quick. Next chapter, actually. Thanks for the review!_

_**Chips03** - Eep! Sorry I took so long! Hope this helped!_

_**hollowheart3** - Heehee, sorry. Don't worry, though, you'll have good reason to be getting quite worked up soon._

_**Solitaire42** - Thanks very much! Glad you liked it!_

_**PsychFan81692** - Well... judging from the amount of reviews I just answered, I'd say my e-stocking was overflowing! Thanks so much for the review - it's always nice to hear from you!_

_Whew... wow, that was a lot of support, you guys! Thanks so much! I can't promise the next chapter will be out soon, now that school is in full swing again, but I promise that it will come... Thanks again for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	8. Storm's Coming

__

_**Complete Summary: **_

**Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process.**

**No one knew.**

**Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list.**

**With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?**

**Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?**

**Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules**

_A/N: Wow. _

_I really have no reason for taking soooo long. But I greatly apologize. And I thank you all for your support - for your reviews, and for voting me the number one most wanted fic over at Psychfic. That is an amazing honor._

_This chapter is about half the length of a typical chapter - I've been away from Psych for a long time, so I need to ease into it. I would greatly appreciate any comments letting me know what you think. Hopefully you'll all understand by the end of the chapter why this was a difficult chapter to write. _

_Thanks again so much for all of your support. I really do appreciate it! Enjoy!_

* * *

_"Alright, come on, then! Show me what you've got!"_

_He smirked, settling into an attack stance, ignoring the sweat dripping from his hairline and pooling at the base of his neck. "Bring it on, old man!"_

_"Old man? The nerve of this kid! You hearin' this, babe?"_

_The redhead laughed teasingly, pausing in her attack on the boxing bag. "He's got a point, hon. You are getting up there in years. I've got a walking stick on back order for you."_

_He laughed as his friend clasped his hands over his heart, his dark hair practically bouncing as he tossed his head back slightly. "Ouch! That cuts - right here, guys."_

_"Whatever, geezer. You gonna put your money where your mouth is?"_

_"Spence, if there's one thing I've learned while I've been here with you, it's to never, ever make anything even closely resembling a bet with anything closely resembling to cash when you're involved."_

_"He's still trying to recover from poker night last month," the redhead added, throwing a few punches at the heavy bag in front of her._

_"Nat!" _

_"What? I'm just telling it like it is, Lo." _

_He grinned and rolled his eyes at the bickering couple, tugging up the top of his sleeveless shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Seriously, can we get a move on? I'd like to hit the showers before I knock myself out here!"_

_"I'm surprised you haven't already, dude. Not gonna lie - you reek!"_

_"Says Mr. Lilac Blossom."_

_His friend flushed red as the young woman laughed. "I told you, my aunt sent me that. I was out of soap!"_

_"Yeah, whatever, Lo. Did she buy the mango body scrub, too?"_

_"Spence! How did you-?"_

_He shot his friend a look, which shut him up immediately. "Oh. Yeah, right. Damn, those eyes of yours can be annoying sometime."_

_"Less talking, more fighting. You boys sound like women," the redhead complained._

_He smirked as they faced each other. "Lo smells like one, too."_

_"Shut up!"_

_Suddenly they were done talking. His friend shot forward, his leg outstretched in a low kick. He dodged it easily, despite the fact that he had been training for close to four hours already. He ducked low, silently inhaled, then countered with an upper-cut of his own. The dark-haired man put his weight on his right foot and twisted away at the last minute, wincing slightly as the fist clipped his ribs. "Watch it, Spence!"_

_"Sorry, Lo. "_

_Then they were moving again. He swung his left leg at hip-height, growling softly when his friend caught it and wrapped his arm around his calf. With a grunt, the dark-haired man twisted, jerking him around. He tucked in his head and neck as his friend let go of his leg, rolling on his shoulder and getting right back to his feet, whirling around in time to avoid a roundhouse kick. The redhead had stopped her activities with the punching bag long ago and was now shouting encouragements to both fighters as they danced around the mats, each sweating profusely and breathing heavily._

_"Geez, hon, who's side are you on?" his friend grunted as he blocked a swift left-handed punch._

_"What would you do if I said Spence?"_

_"I'd have to rethink the movie tonight." He rolled his eyes at the sly grin his friend shot the young woman._

_The redhead sniffed. "Fine. Then I guess I'm going for you. Spence, watch it!"_

_He moved just in time to get a fist to the shoulder. "Thanks, Nat!" he called, humor coloring his tone at the look on his friend's face._

_"Spencer! Secker! I think you two have done enough for the day," a voice suddenly called, causing both young men to freeze in their spots, his arm locked around his friend's elbow. They turned as the young, sandy-haired trainer strode over. "Secker, hit the showers. Spencer, can I have a word?"_

_"Yes, sir," both declared._

_He followed the older man into another room, making eye contact with his friends, shrugging in confusion as they looked at him, slightly worried. _

_"Have a seat, Spence."_

_He hesitated before easing himself down into one of the small conference room chairs. "What do you need, sir?"_

_The officer sighed. "Spence... Ever since you started the academy, I've had my eye on you. You're the most natural cop I've ever seen." The older man hesitated for a moment before continuing, "You ever heard of the Ace Case?"_

"Shawn!"

Shawn blinked, his shoulders twitching slightly in surprise. He recoiled slightly when he realized Gus' face was less than a foot away from his own. "Dude, personal space!"

Gus cocked an eyebrow at him, his forehead creasing with concern. "Shawn, I managed to cross the entire room - while talking to you, I might add - without you even noticing me. What's going on?"

"I'm just a little zoned out, that's all," Shawn replied, leaning back on the sofa. He and Gus were currently camped out in the break room. Logan had taken Shawn's borrowed car back to his apartment, claiming to be suffering from jet lag, and everyone else was working on the case.

Gus perched himself on the edge of the sofa next to Shawn. "Shawn. Don't play dumb. You and I both know that wasn't a psychic link back there. What's going on? Why aren't you harassing Lassiter trying to get info on this case like you normally do? What's got you so freaked?"

"I am _not_ freaked," Shawn shot back immediately, his eyes flashing.

Gus didn't back down. "Yes, you are. Shawn, I know you. You've been freaked ever since Hixson showed up. And then that other guy - Logan - happens to show up at the same time? And the fact that they both call you 'Spence' is a little suspicious, too, since I've never heard _anyone_ call you that."

Shawn sprang to his feet and started pacing in front of the couch. "Gus, it's not a big deal-"

"Don't feed me that crap!" Gus exclaimed, jumping up to his feet and glaring at his best friend. "I know the difference between when you're scared and when you're terrified. And man, this is _beyond_ terrified. You _passed_ _out_, Shawn. And I've seen those crime scene photos, and yeah, they're bad, but we've seen bad before."

Shawn scowled. "Gus-"

"In fact," Gus continued with dawning realization, "it was after Hixson raised that bag with the playing card that you passed out. That was it, wasn't it? That playing card was the trigger!"

"Shut up!" Shawn exclaimed, whirling away and throwing his hands up over his head. "Just shut up, alright?"

"Why? What's got you so freaked you don't even want to talk to me about it? Shawn, _please_-"

"Oh, so now I have to reveal every thing that's ever happened in my life? You were never this interested in what I did before," Shawn shot back, spinning around again.

Gus blinked in shock. "You haven't acted this way since you left when you were twenty. I didn't push the issue then because I didn't want to make you run away."

"I left anyway," Shawn muttered.

"I know you did, but you didn't _run_ away. You kept in contact. You didn't drop off the map like you did after high school. And I thought you had gotten over whatever had happened, but obviously you haven't," Gus said seriously.

"I have!"

Gus didn't miss the way Shawn's voice cracked, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Obviously. That's why the sight of a mere playing card makes you drop," he said flatly.

Shawn's eyes narrowed. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed.

Gus suppressed a flinch at the hurt and venom in Shawn's voice. "Because you won't tell me! What the hell is so bad you think you have to keep it from me?"

"There's nothing I can't handle," Shawn replied, crossing his arms. "Stop worrying about it - I'm fine."

"Stop lying, Shawn! This isn't something you can push aside!" Gus exclaimed, huffing in frustration. "You can't fool me, Shawn - I've seen enough of your hoaxes and cover-ups to know when you're hiding something big. And this is obviously beyond big."

Shawn stared at his friend for a beat. Gus could see a barrage of emotions raging in his friend's eyes. "Well," Shawn finally murmured in a tone so cold it made Gus visibly flinch, "since you seem to have figured out so much on your own, I won't spoil the surprise for you. Find out on your own."

"Shawn," Gus implored, but it was too late. Shawn strode forcefully past Gus out the door and down the hall of the police station. "Shawn!" Gus called, hurrying after his friend. He noted with some surprise that several of the officers, including Lassiter and Juliet, were looking back and forth between the two, absolute shock on their faces as the psychic strode out of the station without another word.

The silence hanging in the air was thick with tension as Gus continued to stare at the door leading out of the station. Finally McNab whispered, "What just happened?"

Gus swallowed painfully, trying to force the hurt down. "Shawn and I just had our third real fight."

_A/N: Thanks again for all of your support - it really forced me to keep going. As always, comments are appreciated. Thanks for reading!_

_moogsthewriter_


	9. Penance and Plotting

_**Complete Summary:**_

Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process.

No one knew.

Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list.

With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?

Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?

Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules

_A/N: As a matter of fact, I do live! And I'm still not letting this story die. Thanks to everyone who's sent me reviews and private messages asking me when this will be updated - your persistence is what's keeping this story alive. I can't promise when the next chapter will be up, but watching the Christmas episode on Friday has reminded me just how much I love this show... and with _Supernatural_ on hiatus, it's time for some _Psych_ lovin' again. Thanks to mav32 for looking this over for me to make sure it's still logical and makes sense._

_**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. _

**Penance and Plotting **

The lighting in the church was dim as most of it filtered in through the arched stain-glass windows. The pews were empty, which was to be expected as it was the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. He preferred it this way – it gave him a chance to be alone with God in this house of worship. He and God talked often, but it had been awhile since he had felt such a need to bare his soul.

He dipped his fingers into the stoup of holy water at the entrance and made the sign of the cross, then slid into a pew three benches from the back, settling his body into the hard wood. He took a deep breath and slowly released it, his shoulders slumping forward as the air hissed out through his nose. He moved and rested on the worn kneelers, his fingers pulling out the worn rosary from his pocket. The scarlet beads settled into a comfortable position in his fingers.

He paused after a Hail Mary when he heard the wooden door open. Quiet footsteps paused at the stoup before entering. The pew creaked as a familiar weight settled down on the bench beside him.

"You weren't at the apartment. Figured I'd find you here."

Logan smiled, turning his head to look at Shawn. "You know me so well, Spence," he replied in a quiet murmur.

Shawn's lips tilted in a half-smile before he sighed and stared at the tiled floor. The smile faded from Logan's face as he watched his friend. "What's wrong?"

Shawn sighed again, wringing his hands a little as he kept his gaze focused on the floor. "Gus and I had a fight," he finally said softly. "A real fight."

"About what?"

Shawn shifted, making the old pew squeak. "He wants to know what happened. He knows there's something I'm not telling him." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know what to do."

Logan sighed and pocketed the rosary before moving back up onto the pew. He leaned back, his shoulder brushing Shawn's as he gazed at a statue of the Virgin Mary, her white marble arms outstretched toward them. "Do you want to tell him?"

Shawn shrugged. "Yeah. No. I don't know."

They were silent for a moment as they each stared up at the statue. Off to the side, out of the corner of their eyes, they both saw an elderly woman glancing at them for a moment before entering the confessional. "Sometimes I think it would be easier if Gus knew," Shawn murmured suddenly. "Gus and I know everything about each other." He paused, then amended, "_Almost_ everything."

"It's not something that's easy to keep to yourself," Logan agreed, tracing a finger over the scar on the top of his right wrist. "I don't know what I would've done if it hadn't been for Steve and Anne."

After a moment Shawn reached up and unclasped the necklace hidden under his green polo. "How did you do it? How do you still do it?" he whispered, rubbing his right thumb over the silver cross.

Logan swallowed. "I pray. A lot. And before he died, I talked a lot with Steve. Don't get me wrong, it's still hard. Not a day goes by where I don't think about what happened – about _her_. But I decided a long time ago I was going to _live_, not just _exist._ And I learned to let go of the guilt."

"I just – I still feel like I could've done _something_-"

"Hey," Logan cut in, bumping shoulders with Shawn. The pseudo-psychic glanced up at him. "If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times – neither of us could have done anything to save Nat."

"I could've gotten loose sooner. I could've figured out where the bastard was hiding before he ever got a chance at us!"

"Yeah, and Chuck could've double checked your tracker to make sure it wasn't about to go dead. Nat and I could've gone through with our plans to go up to the ranch for Thanksgiving. I could've made her go home after you disappeared." Logan swallowed again, trying to blink away the burn in his eyes. "The point is that we ended up in a sucky situation and you made the best of it. I know you, Spence – you took the first opportunity you could to get help. You held out long enough to make McKillian drop his guard. You made him slip up."

Shawn sighed. "You make it sound like I'm some sort of hero or something. I'm not."

"You put a crazy sonofabitch behind bars and saved who knows how many kids from suffering the same fate we did – the same fate Nat did. That sounds like a hero to me," Logan declared firmly.

"Lo… there's something I never told you."

Logan cocked his head at his friend but said nothing, waiting as Shawn composed himself. "Before – before the two of you were caught, McKillian… McKillian asked me to – to choose. He wanted me to choose which one… which one he should kill first. After he had finished me… he wanted to know who to go for next."

"Shawn-"

"I picked you."

Logan blinked in surprise, his jaw opening and closing a few times.

_A slender hand being wrenched from his… green eyes looking at him, radiating a last silent "I love you"… his harsh voice screaming… his friend's cracked, angry whisper…_

"_This isn't what we agreed on!" _

Logan blinked again, jerked back to the present as he realized that Shawn had started rambling.

"…thought you would be able to hold out long enough for Chuck to come in and find you both, and I shouldn't have done it, I shouldn't have picked because by then I should've _known_ McKillian wouldn't go with what he said. I should've just let him kill me and not have picked. He's a twisted psycho and he never made sense-"

"Spence! Stop!" Logan exclaimed, putting a hand on Shawn's shoulder.

Shawn's jaw snapped shut as he looked up at Logan, surprise in his eyes. Logan smiled faintly and softly squeezed his shoulder. "It still doesn't make a difference. McKillian was one twisted son of a bitch, and he's the only one responsible for what he did. You have absolutely no reason to feel guilty, Spence." His smile turned into a smirk. "Now do we need to settle this out on the mats, or do you get me?"

Shawn smiled faintly. "I get you, dude." He held out the silver necklace. "Maybe it's time you have this."

Logan shook his head. "You keep it. Nat gave it to you. Besides… I have my own," he added, pulling out a chain from around his neck.

Shawn's eyes fell on the ring dangling from the chain. "Still saving it?"

Logan nodded, his eyes watering unexpectedly as he fingered the gold band. "If they ever find her… I'll bury it with her. But until then, it stays here," he declared, tucking the necklace under his shirt again.

Shawn sighed, securely fastening the chain around his neck once more. Logan tilted his head. "What are you going to do about Gus?"

"I want to tell him – I do," Shawn replied after a moment. He looked Logan in the eye. "But I don't want him to know, you know? No one should ever have to hear about that kind of thing – especially not your best friend." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And I know Gus. He'd go on the biggest guilt trip ever. He'd feel like he's been doing something wrong all these years – like he should have known what was going on. Like he could have stopped it."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"I don't need his pity," Shawn said sharply. He took a breath, and his eyes softened. "Or his guilt. I've got enough of my own."

"But you do want his support," Logan murmured.

Shawn nodded, then sighed. "I'll think about it," he conceded. His lips quirked into a faint smile. "You wanna grab something to eat?"

Logan grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

*****

Henry glanced up from his fishing magazine as the doorbell rang twice. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" he called, slightly annoyed as he headed for the front door. His annoyance turned to surprise when he caught sight of the figure standing on his front step. "Gus?"

"We need to talk," Gus declared matter-of-factly.

Henry turned his head slightly, but stood aside to let the younger man in. "Did you need anything to drink?"

"No, thank you," Gus replied as he settled into a kitchen chair – the same chair Karen Vick had sat in earlier that morning. "It's about Shawn."

"I figured as much. Is this about when he was gone right after graduation?"

Gus looked surprised. "Yeah. How did you know?"

Henry sighed as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Karen Vick was here this morning asking me about it, and I'll tell you the same thing I told her – I don't know what Shawn was doing during that time."

"Would you like to?"

Henry paused, the rim of the beer bottle inches from his lips. Gus leaned forward, propping his elbows on top of the table. For a brief moment, Henry was transported back in time almost fourteen years to a younger Gus trying to convince him to un-ground Shawn for the night so they could see the premiere of _Jurassic Park_. "I think Shawn was somehow involved in the McKillian case."

"What makes you say that?" Henry asked immediately, letting his bottle hit the table with a soft thud.

"Shawn and I had a fight."

Henry quirked an eyebrow as he took a swig of his beer. "And that's unusual how? You two squabble all the time."

Gus' eyes dropped to the table before rising back to look at him directly, and Henry's chin tipped up in understanding. "So this was an actual fight, then." He frowned, twirling the bottle in his fingers. "That's happened, what, two times before?"

"Three, actually," Gus replied solemnly. "The last time we really fought ten years ago – was the day before he called you to let you know he was back in town."

Henry's eyes narrowed slightly at that as he raised the bottle to his lips again. "I see." He paused a moment before asking, "How long was he around before you had him call me?"

"Six weeks."

Henry's lips twitched into a mirthless smirk. "I see."

Gus never looked away. "It wasn't for the reason you're thinking, though," he said firmly.

"Oh? And what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking he didn't contact you because he was angry. You thought he was pissed off at you because of everything you did," Gus replied. He snorted and added, "For awhile, Shawn even managed to make me believe that. But that wasn't the case."

"Really," Henry deadpanned, setting his beer bottle on the table and crossing his arms.

Gus nodded. "He wasn't angry. He was scared."

Henry blinked. "Of what?"

Gus shrugged helplessly, sitting back in his chair a little. "That's something I've never been able to figure out. But something happened while he was gone that first time. Something bad."

"And you think it has something to do with McKillian," Henry finished.

Another nod. "I think Shawn knows Captain Hixson more than he's letting on. And today, when we were looking at pictures and some clues from the crime scene of that murder yesterday? Shawn passed out because he was so scared."

Henry remained silent for a moment, but Gus saw a muscle working in his jaw. "So Shawn's hiding something. That's not really anything new," the older Spencer declared finally, his tone flat.

Gus narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Spencer–"

"Henry."

"Henry. You know as well as I do that Shawn wouldn't hide something like this from us. Or… at least, he wouldn't hide it from me. Not unless it was something huge. And very, very bad."

Henry took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. "So what do you want to do about it?" When Gus blinked in surprise, he added, "You're the one who's all gung-ho about figuring this out. So it's your call."

Gus swallowed, fingers tapping the hardwood for a moment. "We need to figure out what Shawn did during those two years after high school."

"He's not going to tell us."

"I know," Gus acknowledged with a frustrated sigh. "That's why we've got to dig it up on our own."

"And how do you propose we do that, exactly?" Henry asked, rising from his chair and dropping his empty bottle in with the rest of the recycling. "I'm retired, and you can't hack into any kind of database that could get us the information we're looking for."

Gus chewed his lip before grinning. "Juliet. She'll help us. She can get us into the databases we need."

Henry stared at Gus for a moment. "You're really serious about this, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, but Gus nodded the affirmative. "Ever since we were eleven, I thought I knew everything there was to know about Shawn. I was wrong." Henry shifted his weight from one leg to the other as Gus squared his shoulders and stood. "Whatever happened to him is still seriously affecting him now. That's something I need to know about – that _we_ need to know about."

Henry smiled faintly and waved a hand towards the door. "Lead on."


	10. Connecting Dots without Numbers

_**Complete Summary:**_

Eleven years ago, Shawn was a key player in the sting of a serial killer - and nearly became another victim in the process.

No one knew.

Now former acquaintances from a secret life are dropping by, the horrible past that Shawn thought was buried is being dug up, and the murders have resumed - and Shawn is the main target on the hit list.

With the psychic unwilling to give up any more information about his mysterious past than he has to, will his friends and family be able to protect him?

Or will a killer's thirst for revenge be fulfilled?

Rated for possibly gory, violent later chapters and some mild language. Shules

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who has sent me messages prodding me to keep working. This story will be finished eventually - life just makes it hard to get there. You guys are much to good to me, and I thank everyone who keeps coming back despite my sporadic updates. I'll do my best to move faster, but I can't make any guarantees as to when the next chapter will come out. Real life has a tendency to explode on me._

_Thanks to mav32 and zookitty for looking this over for me. Any and all mistakes are still mine._

_**Connecting Dots without Numbers**_

"Any luck getting those reports?" Lassiter demanded as he approached O'Hara's desk.

O'Hara held up a finger, frowning at whatever the person at the other end of the phone line was telling her. Her shoulders slumped as she rubbed her forehead. "Yes, I understand – if you would just –" Lassiter's eyes narrowed as the blond tried and failed to get a word in edgewise.

After a moment, her eyes flashed as her jaw stiffened. "Listen to me!" she snapped. Lassiter blinked as she smirked in satisfaction and continued, "I understand there is confidential victim information in those reports. I don't want to endanger those two anymore than you do. I would just like to have copies of the reports that are as complete as possible without violating their safety."

She paused and listened for a minute before nodding. "Yes, that will be just fine. How soon?" She grinned and leaned back in her seat. "Thank you. That will be great – and if you could have it sooner, it would be even better. Yes. Yes, thank you."

O'Hara sighed as she hung up the phone, grin dropping off her face as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "What were you saying, Carlton?" she asked, looking up at her partner.

"Have you been on the phone all afternoon?" Lassiter asked, resting his weight on the corner of her desk.

O'Hara nodded, a scowl twisting her typically pleasant face. "I kept getting bounced around from department to department before they sent me to archives. Honestly, what self-respecting law enforcement officer would want to work for the FBI?" she declared with a roll of her eyes. "At any rate, we should have a copy of the entire McKillian investigation by morning. But they have to go through and edit out any reference to the two survivors – minimize the chance of the copycat figuring out just who survived. Apparently only a handful of people know who they actually are."

Lassiter nodded once. "Can't fault them for that, I suppose," he declared. "Even if it is pointless."

O'Hara tilted her head. "Why would you say that?"

"Hixson said he's always suspected McKillian had an accomplice."

"And you both think this copycat might actually be that accomplice," O'Hara finished grimly.

Lassiter shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his hair. "Preferable to thinking that someone might actually admire McKillian enough to copy him."

O'Hara wrinkled her nose. "What did Josh have to say?" she asked quietly.

"He says Connors was definitely at that concert. Last time anyone saw him was at the after-party," Lassiter replied, flipping through the small notebook in his hand. "He left around ten – apparently to work on an upcoming project."

"So, Michael went through all of that trauma in less than two days," O'Hara murmured with a grim frown.

"Not all of it – the coroner called back with his preliminary results. He thinks the cause of death was the broken neck – severed his spinal cord clean in two," Lassiter reported, scanning his hastily scribbled writing. "Most of the superficial bruising occurred before death, but most of the broken bones happened postmortem. Gunshots were also postmortem, but it's hard to tell at this point if the lashes and burns were pre or post."

O'Hara's eyes narrowed. "Why so sketchy?"

Lassiter let his notebook drop down to his lap as he looked at his partner. "Coroner thinks the body was put into some kind of container after death, which sped up the decomp process. The body wasn't extremely bloated because of the bullet holes – they let the majority of the air out. Makes TOD difficult to determine, but he thinks it was probably sometime Sunday night."

"Do we have any idea how this compares to McKillian's killings?"

Lassiter shook his head. "No – that's why we really need those reports."

"Conklin told me he'd try to have them here by the end of his shift if he could. So hopefully by five," O'Hara told him. "Otherwise it'll come first thing in the morning."

Lassiter glanced at his watch. "Okay. That means at least four hours from now. Ballistics is still looking at the slug the coroner recovered from the body. Three of the wounds were through-and-though, but the fourth lodged up against the spine."

O'Hara sighed. "Anything to do in the meantime?"

"You can go home," Lassiter replied seriously. He held up a hand when O'Hara opened her mouth to protest. "I know you were here early working on paperwork – McNab told me. And I also know you stayed late last night. So go home, get some rest. Once we have those reports, I'm sure we'll lose plenty of sleep."

O'Hara sighed again, but smiled faintly. "Yes, sir. Let me finish up one thing, and then I'll go."

Lassiter stood up off her desk. "You better be gone within an hour, O'Hara. I know how your 'one thing' turns into ten."

This time Juliet grinned widely and held up two fingers. "Scout's honor, Carlton."

Lassiter rolled his eyes but headed for Vick's office without another word. O'Hara chuckled and turned back to her computer, jiggling her mouse to wake the computer.

Before the sleep mode had even worn off, she caught sight of two familiar faces heading straight for her desk. "Gus, Mr. Spencer," she greeted as the pair approached. "What are you doing here? Where's Shawn?"

"We're here because of Shawn," Gus replied seriously.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. "Is this about your fight this morning?"

Gus nodded. "We need your help."

"With what?" Juliet asked.

"We need you to look up some records between 1995 and 1996," Henry told her.

"What kind of records?"

Gus and Henry glanced at each other for a moment before looking back at the detective. "We need to know what Shawn was doing then," Gus replied finally.

Juliet immediately frowned. "I don't know-"

"Juliet, please," Gus interrupted. "We think –" He paused as Henry nudged him with an elbow. "Okay, _I_ think that Shawn knows a lot more about what's going on than he's saying. And we – I – think it has something to do with whatever happened to him right after we graduated from high school."

"You have no idea what he was doing then?" Juliet asked.

Both Gus and Henry shook their heads. "Like I said, he kept in touch for a little bit, but then he completely dropped off the grid. No one we know heard from him for almost a year," Gus told her.

Juliet chewed her lip. "I still don't know, Gus. I'd love to help you, I really would, but…"

"Were you at the crime scene of that copy cat?" Henry asked. When the blond nodded, he continued, "I never personally saw any of the bodies of McKillian's victims, but the pictures I saw were enough. If this guy is doing even half of what that bastard did, we have to stop him. And if Shawn knows more about this than he's saying, then we need to find out why he's not talking about it."

Juliet glanced over towards Vick's office, where she could see Lassiter conferring with the chief. She focused back on the pair in front of her, leaning forward slightly in her chair. "Okay. Lassiter ordered me to leave within an hour, so I'll see what I can find out in that amount of time. Is there some place I can meet you?"

"We can meet at Psych," Gus declared. "I doubt Shawn will be there today. And if he is, maybe we can convince him to tell us what's going on."

Henry snorted. "Gus, this is _Shawn_ we're talking about. He may not be great at keeping most secrets, but if it's big enough he turns into a human Fort Knox."

Juliet looked slightly confused at the meaningful look the two exchanged but didn't press. "Okay. I'll meet you at Psych in an hour."

*****

"So what are we going to do?" Logan asked.

"Well, I was thinking we could go for a round of laser tag, and maybe some mini golf or go karts after that," Shawn replied, taking a long sip of his smoothie.

Logan shot his friend a look. "Shawn."

Shawn scowled and sighed as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Nothing."

The rancher frowned. "Look, Spence, I don't want to do this any more than you do. But we can't just sit here and do _nothing_."

"Which is why I suggested some laser tag."

"Helping doesn't necessarily involve _telling_, if that's what you're worried about."

"That's part of it," Shawn admitted. He smirked ruefully and added, "It'd also be a little awkward to explain just how you know so much about this case when we were supposed to have worked on a cruise ship together."

Logan chuckled. "I wondered about that. Cruise ship? That was really the best you could come up with, Spence? I was a little disappointed."

"Well, I would've used Amazon River guide, but Gus has seen pictures from that," Shawn shot back with a grin.

"Is there seriously anything you haven't done?" Logan asked with a roll of his eyes.

"Wouldn't both you and the border patrol like to know," Shawn replied with a waggle of his eyebrows. He jumped a little as his phone vibrated in his pocket, sighing silently as he tugged it out and saw Gus' name flashing across the screen. Gus had been calling at least once every hour since Shawn had stormed out of the police station, and had left a few voicemails that didn't say much, other than asking Shawn to call him back.

Shawn swallowed and stuck the phone back in his pocket as the ringing stopped. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The one time he really needed Gus' help in figuring out a case, it just _had_ to be a copycat of the case Gus had no clue about…

"Spence? You okay?"

Shawn opened his eyes and grinned at the Montanan. He could tell by the look in Logan's eyes that the grin looked as fake as it felt. "I'm just peachy."

Logan raised an eyebrow, but didn't push the issue. His voice was soft as he said, "I know you want to figure this out just as much as I do, if not more."

All traces of humor left Shawn's face as he mashed a fry into his ketchup. "I'd like to be able to solve it without thinking about it," he muttered grimly.

"I think we both would – but I know what you mean," Logan added when Shawn shot him a sharp look. He paused, then softly said, "You still sure you heard someone else?"

Shawn nodded once, taking an extra long draw of his smoothie. "It's like I told Chuck and Phil – I heard McKillian talking with _someone_. I just couldn't hear who it was exactly or what they were saying. But there was definitely someone there, and I know I heard both your name and my name a couple of times."

Logan rubbed his thumb over his lower lip. "Then maybe that's where we need to start. See if there's some way we can find out any of McKillian's associates at the time. Anyone who could have possibly been involved. Someone the police and the FBI missed. From the sounds of it, that's the only person who could have killed that kid."

"And how exactly to you expect us to do that? Normally I'd be all for checking things out down at the station, but we'd never be able to find anything out now – not if we want to avoid telling Lassiter or Vick anything," Shawn replied. His lips twisted into a frown as he added, "And I don't really want to head back to Psych. If Gus is there, I have no idea what I would tell him."

"We can head to the library. I still know a thing or two about hacking into computer databases," Logan said with a smirk.

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "You realize this means I'll have to sacrifice my reputation. I haven't been spotted in a library since I was twelve."

Logan laughed as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Don't worry, Spence. We'll keep it discreet."

*****

Henry glanced up as the door opened and Gus stepped through. "Where were you?" he asked, rising from Shawn's desk chair.

"My apartment," Gus replied, closing the door behind him. When he turned, Henry could see a few weathered postcards in his grip. "It took me awhile to remember where I put these."

"What are they?" Henry inquired, moving to stand by Gus' desk as the younger man sat in his chair.

"The postcards Shawn sent me the first couple months he was gone," Gus answered, handing one to Henry.

"And you kept them for all these years?" Henry asked, astonished.

Gus shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "Unlike Shawn, I was able to actually keep my memory box we made in that middle school art class."

Henry chuckled a little. "I warned him that the box would go bad if he tried to put in a slice of pineapple upside-down cake," he declared as he turned the postcard over in his hand. His lips twitched a little when he saw the picture emblazoned across the side facing him. It was a panorama picture of the Los Angeles skyline. A hand-drawn pineapple rested on top of the tallest building in the photo. Henry flipped it back over and scanned the smudged, inky scrawl that was distinctively Shawn's handwriting.

_Hey, dude. Not much going on around here – just doing some job training. Exciting stuff, let me tell you what. I thought I'd be done reading after leaving high school. You'd better be living it up a little at college – wouldn't want you to miss out on the full experience without me around! Catch you later._

"Job training?" Henry wondered as he set the post card on Gus' desk.

Gus shrugged again. "He never told me what that job was, and when he came back, he didn't want to talk about what had happened at all while he was gone."

Henry frowned, glancing at the postmark on the card. "This one is from Los Angeles – where McKillian was arrested."

"Yeah, but that one showed up over a year before the arrests were made. And the next month, I got this postcard," Gus told him, handing him another.

Henry glanced at the picture on the front for a moment – a snapshot of the Old Faithful geyser erupting in Yellowstone National Park – before flipping it over to read the next message.

_Hey, Gus – more job training for me. If it weren't so intriguing, I'd probably reconsider this so-called path I've chosen. (Just had Chinese, and my fortune cookie talked about creating paths. Not sure why – it's not like I'm into making Zen gardens or anything… although that might be kind of fun. Maybe I'll do that next.) Anyway, hope midterms aren't killing you too badly – and you should definitely go out with that Amy girl again. I think she was really into you (you Casanova you)._

The older Spencer's eyes flicked up to the stamped postmark. "Boise, Idaho?"

Gus nodded. "And damned if I know how he knew about Amy – I'd gone out on my first date with her three days before I got that postcard. We didn't even date all that long."

Henry rubbed his lower lip with his thumb for a moment before he tapped the postcard once with a finger. "Some of McKillian's victims were from Idaho," he declared grimly.

Gus' eyebrows went up. "Really?" He paused as he glanced down at the last postcard in his hand. "Were any of them from Nevada?" he asked quietly.

Henry looked up as Gus held up the postcard. The picture was a snapshot of the Las Vegas strip at night. "Yeah, I think a couple of them were."

"So what does that mean?" Gus asked, forehead scrunching in confusion as they set the trio of postcards on the desk and staring at them. "Do you think he did that intentionally?"

Henry folded his arms as he stared at the postcards. "As scatterbrained as he may seem at times, everything Shawn does is intentional," he declared. "Which one came first?"

"The Los Angeles one. Then the Old Faithful one, and then the Las Vegas one," Gus answered, reaching forward and flipping the order of the cards so they were chronological. He glanced up as Henry shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "What're you thinking?"

Henry snorted as he ran a hand over the top of his head. "That Shawn enjoys frustrating the crap out of me."

"You and me both," Gus replied with a rueful shake of his head.

"Knock knock."

The men looked up as Juliet entered the room. She had changed out of her work clothes into a pair of khaki shorts and a green T-shirt, and she was carrying a thin manila folder in one arm. "Hey, Jules," Gus greeted. "Thanks for coming."

"You're welcome, but I'm not sure how much help I'll be," Juliet confessed, entering into the office and joining the pair around Gus' desk. "What are these?" she asked, spotting the postcards on the desk.

"The postcards Shawn sent me right after he left," Gus replied. He gestured at the folder in the crook of her arm. "What'd you find out?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," Juliet told them, setting the folder on the desk and opening it. "I wasn't able to use some of the bigger databases without approval for a valid reason from the Chief, so I used what I could."

"And?" Henry prodded.

"And, there's a huge gap of time where Shawn doesn't show up on any records at all," Juliet told them. She snatched up one of sheets from the small stack of printouts in the folder. "I found this – it's a credit card receipt from a motel in downtown Los Angeles. Looks like he stayed there for a week in June of 1995."

"Right after he left," Gus said.

Juliet nodded. "That's what I thought." She grabbed a few more sheets of paper and handed them to Gus. "Over the next few months his credit card number showed up sporadically – all in the L.A. area, and all for purchases under forty dollars. Mostly food, a few withdrawals, and a couple of movies."

"Only in L.A.? You're sure?" Henry asked, looking up sharply at her.

"Yes. Why?"

"Because only one of these postcards is postmarked out of Los Angeles. One's from Boise, and the other's from Las Vegas," Gus told her.

Juliet frowned in thought. "Weren't some of McKillian's victims from each of those places?" she asked.

Both Gus and Henry nodded. Gus picked up the list of credit card receipts and scanned. "He bought ten dollars worth of groceries the same day the postcard from Las Vegas was sent out," he declared.

"How's that possible? He can't be in two places at once," Juliet said.

"Well, unless his credit card was stolen, we'll have to go off the assumption that he was in L.A. for most of that time," Henry declared.

"What about the postcards?" Gus demanded. "You saw the handwriting – Shawn definitely wrote those."

Henry nodded. "I'm not saying he didn't. But it's possible he had them mailed in an envelope somewhere else to be sent out. It wouldn't take much, if he knew someone who'd be around to open the envelope and drop the postcard in the mail."

"But why would he do that?" Juliet wondered.

"I have no idea," Henry replied. "What else did you find?"

"Well, he made a final purchase at a small grocery store on August 15. After that, he completely dropped off the grid. I couldn't find a single thing – it's like he vanished off the face of the earth for almost a year."

"When did he show up again?" Gus asked.

"July 31, 1996," Juliet said. "He bought a plane ticket from Boise, Idaho and flew down to Santa Barbara."

"Really?" Gus exclaimed. "That was about a week before he showed up at my apartment."

"There's no record of him staying in any motels in the area during that time – at least, not on his credit card. But he could have paid with cash," Juliet told him. "Or the motel he stayed at might not have credit card records that go that far back. In any case…" she added, picking up the rest of the papers in the folder, "after that he starts showing up regularly. Payments on his Norton, various gas purchases across the country, a handful of employments, a warning for speeding in South Dakota, a plane ticket to Thailand – you get the idea."

"So we still don't know exactly what happened in that stretch of time between when he left Santa Barbara and when he came back," Henry declared, tossing the papers in his hand onto the desk with a huff of frustration.

"Except that he stuck around California for awhile," Gus pointed out. He sighed wearily as he scooped up the postcards. "We have all this information, but no idea how it links together. It's like trying to connect the dots without any numbers to follow."

Henry rubbed the top of his head before folding his arms across his chest. "You need to talk to Shawn, Gus," he declared.

"He doesn't _want_ to talk to me!" Gus exclaimed, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I've called him, left voicemails – he's not answering me."

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" Juliet asked.

Gus shrugged. "His apartment, maybe. When I drove by earlier, his bike was there. But I think he still has the car we were borrowing from that dealer, so that doesn't mean a whole lot. But other than that… I have no idea. Shawn obviously knows how to disappear when he wants to," he finished, gesturing in the direction of the records Juliet had brought. He paused, tilting his head as he looked back at the detective. "Do you think you could try talking to him?"

"Me?" Juliet squeaked. "What makes you think he'll talk to me?"

"He probably won't – not about this stuff, anyway," Henry cut in before Gus could reply. "But you might be able to get him to talk about why he doesn't want to talk to me or Gus."

Juliet chewed her lip for a moment before nodding. "I'll see what I can do."

_tbc..._


End file.
